The Dovakiin's Dragon
by bookSmartCat
Summary: The story is old as Skyrim itself; the dragonborn is made to kill dragons, to eat their souls and keep the foul beasts from ever returning. They are enemies, now and until prophecies end and the stars begin to fade. Dragons will ever only destroy, only cause pain. Nothing will ever change that. Not even a hatchling with cute red eyes that just squeeze this dovakin's heart. Right?
1. An Unusual Treasure

**Chapter 1:**

It was just turning evening across the land of Skyrim. Evening orange bathed the open landscape, and amongst the villages, towns, and cities, the inhabitants were beginning to wind down for the day. Even the beasts that roamed Skyrim's plains and forests were searching for places to tuck in, while creatures of the night waited patiently for their time under the moon. But one daylight critter was far from settling down; for a dovakin's work is never done.

Along one of the high mountain ranges that sprawled Skyrim's landscape, carving up the area with unpassable walls, a lone Imperial scales a narrow cliff face. Finding a hand hold, the man pulls himself up with a grunt of effort, onto a ledge that breaks the shear fangs of rock that form the tomb's natural barrier. Here, the sun's light does not reach, and near darkness is cast across the large wooden doors that barre the entrance.

Kian takes a moment to catch his breath; hands clutching his knees as he spends a few moments gasping. Whipping his sweat with the edge of his traveling cloak, the dragonborn stands, hands on hips, as he studies his destination. An unnamed Nordic tomb lies before him, carved from the ridged mountain top. According to tales from the incredibly sparse village at the mountain's base, the tomb was there long before they had settled; some Nords claim it predates all others; perhaps even Skyrim itself. Though no one had touched the thing in generations due to the dangerous climb, so no one knows for sure.

And if there was one thing Kian knew, after his career adventuring and doing heroic work through Skyrim, Nordic tombs were a gold coin jackpot. What had caught his attention most, was that it had been described as a less elaborate Bleak Falls Barrow; a phrase that was music to his ears. And after several days of non-stop dragon hunting, quest-fulfilling, attending some of his Thane duties, and trying to patch relations between Stormcloaks and Imperials, Kian thought some dungeon exploring was just the break he needed.

With a deep breath in… and out, Kian rubbed his hands together.

"Let's see what you're hiding."

And with a smirk, he opened the door.

The first, most noticeable thing about the tomb was the open entryway. It wasn't as large as Bleak Falls Barrow, fitting the rumors nicely, but it was far more ornately carved. With swirling designs and strange animals carved with careful hand into the rock, which had been entirely smoothed out. Kian took a quick spin around to get a view of the entire room.

"Wow. Ancient Nords put a lot of effort into their burial chambers. I should tell Ralof that the others need to step up their game."

With a chuckle to himself, the dragonborn stepped cautiously through the open doorway; checking for traps as he went. The entryway may not have been much in scale, but the hallways outdid anything he had seen before. The headspace was huge! The walls stretched up into a tall arch far above Kian, to the point where not even the torches' light could reach. Along each side, shelf-like alcoves that had been carved out to hold the dead ran all the way to the end, and from what Kian could tell, likely ran into the other rooms he could see branching off.

His adventuring instincts reacted and the seasoned fighter pulled and iron sword from its scabbard while setting a fireball alight in the other. Green eyes scanned from side to side, on the look for draugrs. But not a soul moved in the darkened tomb. With great trepidation, the dragonborn approached one alcove, and peered inside. What could have been a draugr, was now nothing more than dust with a few pieces of bone, and most of a skull left. Checking around, Kian saw that it was the same in all the other graves along the hall. Letting out a held breath, Kian retracted his weapons.

"Damn, this is certainly an old tomb." He kicked lazily at a loose piece of stone before continuing. Well, no draugrs was certainly going to make this easier.

Again, Kian was distracted admiring the height of the ceiling. It was so large, that even Alduin could slink through without needing to lower his head much. Which was saying something, since he was the largest of the dragons. Any other would likely fit with ease.

Though the adventurer felt something was off. Something about the tomb was… out of place. A chill crept down his spine, and Kian scratched nervously at it as he studied his surroundings. At last he noticed; the entire tomb was bare.

Well, not entirely. The classic pots, earns, and chests were still scattered around the graves towards the hall's end, and the rooms he peaked into were filled with their usual goodies, (already pilfered as he checked, of course), but the entire front was empty of anything along the walls. It led all the way up to…

Before the dovakin stood a black hallway. Any and all torches had been snuffed, and turned the entryway into a dark abyss. From what was visible, Kian could tell it was bare as well, same as the rest. A few connections began to form in his brain. It was like a path in the woods; a trail worn down by so many animals that vegetation ceased to grow and left open earth behind instead. Dread crept down his spine. Something had been moving through here, something big enough to sweep pots, earns, and chest off the walls as it scraped by.

And it likely lived down this corridor.

Dropping to a crouch, Kian swept his way down the corridor, cloak barely making a sound as he moved with practiced stealth. If the Khajiit who taught him could see his form now, he would surely weep at its perfection. The farther Kian crept, the more that cold chill began to grow, and every black hair on his body stood on end.

A crunching sound graced his ears, and Kian's tightened muscles jumped at the sudden noise. Looking down, he saw a piece of old pine straw. Its orange color was lost in the lack of light. Farther down, Kian could see more of the stuff, as well as some other outside debris like moss and leaves. Keeping to his stealth, the Thane moved in deeper, brushing lightly over growing layers of pine straw and leaves.

At last, the stone walls gave way to a large room. At one time it may have been a resting place for a Nord of great importance, to the extent that it even had an open air window letting the first light of the moon into the space. But now, anything that could have given hint to what the room was for was gone, replaced instead by a huge nest. It stretched from one wall to another and was made of woven and stacked bits of the same debris that Kian had found in the hallway, only to a much larger degree. Stepping onto the surface, the dovakin found it to be springy, and very soft. Not to the extent of most tavern beds, but comfy enough for something more… feral.

Though what caught his attention was the state of the room around him. Sections of the wall looked blacked and charred, like the residue left behind from a fire blast, and large claw marks scoured the walls, deep and long. And, near the edge of the nest where Kian stood, a familiar four-toed print stood out, pressed into the layers of moss and dead leaves.

" _Dragon."_

Kian choked out as he scrambled back into darkness.

No. No no no no no no! Fucking no! His luck was not this bad, the divines could _not_ hate him this much. Kian brought a hand to his mouth, trying to choke back panic and a painful sob. His other hand ran fingers urgently through unruly black hair; and for a time all that could be heard in the silent tomb was pained breathing.

Dragons, at this point, were a waking nightmare to Kian. He had gone up against quite a few now, as is his duty as dragonborn, but constant near death conflict with titanic flying monsters had done some major damage to his nerves. Most days he watched the sky with paranoia filling his mind. The brave dovakin of Skyrim jumped at the sound of a bird taking flight from a tree; flashbacks of gaping jaws and the pain of fire searing his flesh charging his battle instincts. Dragons were something he feared every day. And even though he would charge into battle with them again, and he knew he would, he hated every moment of it. And now, to encounter one on his "day off" as Kian was calling it, was just too much.

After a few moments of just trying to breathe again, Kian pulled himself to his feet, forcing panic down as he always had. It was obvious that the dragon wasn't here. He just needed to haul his ass out before it came back… before he was stuck in a small space with a jagged, tooth-filled beast from Oblivion-!

 _NO… no. We're not going there. Take the treasure, get out._

The dragon hunter kept up the mantra as he scrambled to gather his loot. _Take the treasure, get out. Take the treasure, get out. Take the treasure-_

Across the expansive nest, the rising moon flooded more of its calm, blue light into the tomb, and a silver beam glinted off something in the distance. Kian made his way in a bit of a daze over to the object, and felt his limbs go limp at the sight; bag of dusty armor falling to the ground with a muffled clang.

Shattered bits of smooth grey littered the straw covering the floor, their insides a pure white. Each piece was curved to a slight extent, and some chunks were still whole enough to resemble parts of an oval. White strands of goo from smashed yokes stuck clumps of the nest together, and what looked like the bloodied pieces of whatever infants had been inside were scattered amongst the leaves. And to add to the scene, one was still completely intact.

" _Eggs"_

It came out as a squeak of fear and disbelief. Both of Kian's hands buried their fingers in his scrappy hair.

" _The dragons are laying fucking eggs!"_

The dragonborn felt like sinking to the floor for a good cry… but refused to let himself. Instead, he returned to gathering supplies while muttering an itinerary to himself as a distraction.

"I'll need to tell the Jarl of Whiterun first thing tomorrow. We'll spread the word to the rest of Skyrim. Start organizing teams to root out more nests. We'll smash any eggs we see, and double the efforts to track down dragon locations. Maybe we can target the females first… yeah, get rid of their egg layers. But first; we'll get home, have Lydia set up a roaring fire, get a nice… whole bottle of warmed mead, and sleep tonight away."

But a sound cut through the heavy silence of the empty tomb. Kian shuttered at it, and turned around to eye the remaining, intact egg in disbelief. The grey lump was shuttering; wriggling and practically rolling around on the pine straw. The dovakin crept back over towards it, his eyes slowly growing wider, expression dropping further into anguish. Hair line cracks appeared in a web-like pattern all over the smooth surface of the egg.

"Ohhhh no." Kian choked out. He had little breath left to work with at this point.

With a few more wiggles, and one particularly violent shutter, the egg burst apart with a resounding _crack_ , and Kian hurled himself back with a cry of fear, shuffling backwards as fast as he could, kicking up leaves as he went. A dark blob fell with a wet splurch amongst the moss and hay, a few indiscernible limbs kicking out into the blackness, as the baby dragon took its first breaths.

Kian sat amongst the straw, down right hyperventilating.

 _Damn! I thought the thing was dead! How has it survived without warmth like this?_

His thoughts raced as the dark silhouette continued to squirm in the soft bedding. A few tiny _scraws_ filled the bare chamber as the dragon tested its voice. Steadying his shaking limbs, the Imperial pulled a dagger from his belt, and scrambled back over to where the new dragon lay. Soon enough, he stood tall over the keening infant; and he had to admit, it did feel rather good to be towering over one of their kind for a change.

With a calming breath, Kian raised the dagger. One stab. Then it'll be dead. One stab.

As the dragonborn's shadow fell across the baby, it raised its scaly head, and looked directly towards Kian. Its eyes were red. The same red that had peered down at Kian while his head lay on the executioners block. Red as the fires of Oblivion, the Nords used to say. But it was different here. On this dragon, they looked more like ripe berries, ready to be picked from their branch. The large, reflective lenses took up most of the dragon's face, and Kian caught sight of himself reflected in them. As well as his dagger.

The baby dragon tilted its head to the side, gazing up and Kian with no real discernable expression. Out of pure fascination and confusion, Kian dipped his head to mimic it. Then the infant beast chirped. Actually _chirped_. Like a baby chick, or a bird. A cute, small little _churr_ which barely stirred the air. Kian was dumbstruck, and the first thing that came to mind fell from his mouth.

"Um… hi?"

The dragon _churred_ again, if a bit more eager this time, and twisted its body about so it was finally standing right side up on the straw. And with a few unsteady bounds, it scrambled over to Kian. With a startled yelp, Kian backed up from the approaching thing until his back slammed into the wall. He muffled a grunt of pain, and rubbed the back of his sore head. Another chirp sounded from below, and the adventurer looked down, only to lock eyes with the baby dragon, practically sitting on his boot.

The dragonborn was completely still, barely even breathing from his spot pressed against the wall. The dragon chirped again, a bit quieter this time, and stepped even closer, using its wings like front legs to crawl along. Kian breathed in sharply as the dragon stepped onto his foot, the tiny weight barely noticeable through the thick protective material.

With another, longer chirp, the dragon rubbed its head up against Kian's leg.

The Thane's eyes were incredibly close to leaving their sockets if he stretched them any farther. Reality seemed to be crumbling around him. Any sort of sense and order the world had? Gone. Tossed out the window all with that one action. The dragon ceased his affection and stared up at Kian with those large, red berry eyes, and something melted in the dragonborn's chest. A comfortable warmth settled in his gut, and against anything he thought he would ever do, he lowered himself to crouch next to the dragon.

It eagerly stepped closer to him, like it was glad to see his face without such a distance. Nervously, the dragon slayer brought a hand to the side of its face, though it continued to hover there uncertainly. The baby closed the gap and pressed its forehead into Kian's palm, rubbing against it with vigor. With a quiet, and disbelieving chuckle, he closed his fingers around the dragon's chin, and stroked it much like one would a cat or a dog.

The dragon responded with closing its eyes in a calm and satisfied expression. And, against his hand, Kian felt vibrations from deep in its throat.

"It's _purring?_ " he whispered with reverence. Things could not possibly weirder.

At that moment, Skyrim's hero became painfully aware of the weight of the dagger in his hands. Tearing his eyes away from the dragon, he eyed the sharpened steal with conflict raging in his eyes. Once again, he turned to the dragon, who had stopped its rubbing once more when it noticed Kian move his gaze. Those big, red eyes were open once more, and they completely encompassed Kian's view.

His hand tightened around the dagger's grip, and he raised it slightly in a shivering hand, the responsibility of his title weighing it down for the first time in his life.

Under the sharp gaze of the full moon, in the dead of night, the doors of an unnamed Nordic tomb open to the chilly night air. A robed figure steps from the shadows and, with a few glances around, begins to scale back down the mountain.

A sack of treasures tied to his traveling pack, and a newly hatched baby dragon resting against his chest in a tight grip.


	2. Bringing a Wolf Among the Sheep

**Chapter 2:**

Kian walked through the main gates of Whiterun feeling more anxious then when he had arrived as a newly escaped prisoner of the empire. The Dragonborn felt invisible eyes over his shoulders, and that the gaze of everyone who turned his way could burrow through his cloak and see the small, warm form pressed against his side.

In reality, his paranoia was far from the truth. It was late, the guards were hardly awake, and the only people out were those who had no home to return to. But when you find yourself, the city's Thane and greatest hero, smuggling one of your deadliest enemies into its walls, you can feel the transgression emblazoned on your chest in big, red letters.

Kian tried his best to seem natural… but concentrating on pretending to be natural often leads to unnatural results. So the Dovakiin walked with a stiff gate and a smile that showed far too much teeth through the near abandoned stone streets towards his place of residence.

He came to a stop before a modestly sized house made of cobbled brick and wood. The sturdy structure had been a gift from the Jarl for his heroic deeds, and having a place with a roof and warm fire to come back to at the end of the day had become one of the many little joys in Kian's life. Now, looking at the cozy building he had come to call his home, the adventurer felt the full extent of weariness. Not just from climbing rocks, exploring dungeons, and spending most of the day in a saddle, but an emotional exhaustion that left his mind feeling like swamp mush in his skull. His pack felt unduly heavy and his shoulders ached in protest.

The weight of the baby dragon shifted as the beast turned over within the cradle his right arm provided, and that feeling of emotional taxation increased tenfold. There was much left to do tomorrow; the issue of dragon breeding still had to be brought up and discussed with the Jarl, and there was no doubt he would be left running the entirety of Skyrim until it was fixed. As well, there was still the issue of what he had decided to bring home to settle.

Fuck, it was going to be a long night.

Kian swung the wooden door open and stumbled from the cold night into a warm interior.

"Hail, my Thane!" a voice called as a woman stepped from the kitchen into the common room.

Kian groaned internally. Great. He'd forgotten about Lydia.

Not that Lydia was a source of ire for the Dovakiin. In fact, he considered Lydia a valuable team mate and a close friend. They had experienced enough near-death encounters to ensure a bond tougher than any well forged sword. She had been a part of the reward along with the house. Her job, as commanded by the Jarl, was to serve as the Thane's assistant of sorts. To help with any tasks needed and, as was the issue now, to care for the house when he wasn't there.

As much as he liked the house, and Lydia, having someone else living with you made an awful environment for keeping secrets. Like; dragon sized secrets.

"It is good to see you well, my Thane." She bowed slightly out of respect.

"Glad to be back, Lydia." Kian returned the gesture in response.

As she stood back up, Lydia offered a kind smile as she stepped up to the Thane. Kian had stopped trying to rid her of such formalities a long time ago. He had come to find that the woman was a stickler for proper protocol and showing respect for her betters. It was no wonder the Jarl thought her a perfect companion. The Dragonborn found it was easier to just let Lydia get it out of the way so they could move on to more informal interaction.

"Would you like me to take that sack for you, Kian?"

"Oh, by the divines, yes." Kian sighed in relief as he felt the weight slip from his shoulders into Lydia's grasp. "My poor shoulders will never feel the same."

Lydia shook her head as she let the bag rest by the stairs which led to the bedrooms.

"My Thane, if you forgive my rudeness, this is why I should come with you on these sorts of trips. What good of a hero will you be to Skyrim if you develop arthritis and a stoop at age thirty?"

Kian rolled his eyes.

For someone who always insisted on putting sirs and titles in their proper places, she could lay on the nagging and sarcasm when she wanted to.

"Don't worry, _mother_ , it was only another Nordic burial chamber. Nothing I haven't trapesed through thousands of times before. It was just the mountain climbing that gave me a few aches."

Lydia only shook her head disapprovingly.

"It's not a harm to ask those around you for help. It's what I'm here for after all. Your friends can help carry your burdens; no matter how heavy."

Kian froze for a few moments and looked at her, before doubling over in a fit of chuckles.

"Getting a bit serious, aren't we Lydia? I only wanted to go out on my own for a bit; do some easy dungeon crawling, clear my mind, have a little time to myself."

Lydia cast an unsure gaze.

"It's just that… something seems off. You look tense."

Kian stiffened a little at that, before shrugging it off.

"It's nothing major, it's just that all this dragon business has me a bit rattled."

Lydia nodded her head sagely.

"I had a feeling it had something to do with that." She walked up to Kian and placed a hand on his right arm. "I know the legends say that fighting dragons is the Dovakiin's responsibility, but you can't lay all this pressure on yourself. Even the last Dragonborn who fought with them had a team of dragon slayers at his disposal. And you've got the support of the entirety of Whiterun as well."

Kian felt the dragon shift again in his arms, much more violently this time. He jolted back out of her grip, and before Lydia could question him, the Dragonborn bolted up the stairs.

"You know, you're right Lydia, I have been too stressed. I just need to go catch up on some sleep. See you tomorrow!" He rushed out the last few words as he rounded the hall upstairs.

"Wait, what about-!" a door slam split her sentence. "Dinner…"

Kian leaned against the now locked door, breathing harshly and shaking off the momentary panic in his rush upstairs. He sighed heavily and lifted a hand to wipe at his brow. He had to curse Lydia and her prying sometimes; she could layer question after question and you'd never get away. The Dragonborn knew she only asked because she worried so much, but any longer she might have found out about…

With uncertainty in his eyes, Kian slowly uncovered the baby dragon from where it was snuggled in the crook of his elbow, veiled by his traveling cloak. He looked at the dark mass of scales weighing heavily in his grasp, and felt frustration rising up from his gut. He set the dragon down on his bedding with more force than was likely necessary, startling the creature from its rest.

Kian paced up and down the length of his room like a wild sabercat, hands running habitually through his tangles of dark hair while he cursed quietly to himself.

"This is all your fault, you know." He spat harshly, pointing with an accusing finger at the hatchling who was trying to sit up in his bed. "If you hadn't been… _Aaugh_ … and- and fucking…"

He couldn't even place his turmoil into words. It wasn't the dragon's fault; not really. It hadn't led him to that tomb, or lured him inside. It hadn't dictated its hatching to occur right when a Dragonborn would find it… Hell, it was more likely his fault than anything else. What kind of Dragonborn is he? Saving the offspring of an enemy he is sworn to eradicate… It didn't make sense. He's felt nothing but animosity for dragons before; felt no moral qualms about striking them down and taking their souls, but-

Kian stopped and stood frozen like a statue in the center of his quarters, head in his hands while letting out a sigh of frustration and sorrow.

 _Kurrrrr_

The light and airy sound drew Kian's attention towards his bed. There, the small little thing sat against ruffled sheets; wings tucked tight into its sides as it gazed directly at him. Those large, marble like eyes seemed drenched in sympathy and concern as the beast tipped its head from side to side in confusion. It made another little _churr_ that stirred the air, and Kian thought it sounded absolutely heart broken.

All tension left his body, and the Dovakiin wearily stepped over to the side of the mattress. As he sat down, tipping the bed and throwing the small creature off balance, the dark haired adventurer raised a hand and brought it next to the little dragon's head. Once again, it eagerly pressed its mussel into the man's palm, snuggling into his petting while releasing little chirps and purrs. Kian couldn't help but smile as he rubbed his fingers against its throat.

There was no way he could do it. No amount of dragon slaying, monster killing, or battle fighting could get him to raise is hand against a defenseless newborn; fire breathing monster or otherwise. This dragon had done nothing to him. To anyone. It hadn't had the chance to do anything yet. And though Kian knew that it would simply grow into a raging beast like the others, it still felt so unfair, so unjust, that his moral sensibilities recoiled at the thought.

He stopped his stroking of the dragon for a moment, and almost immediately the thing turned its bright red eyes back towards him. Kian smiled again and let out a chuckle.

"Gods be damned, I'm too soft for this."

To the Thane's surprise, the dragon let out a few huffs of air in a pattern that sounded like laughter.

"Glad someone is getting some humor out of this… By the seven, I'm talking to a dragon in my own house."

The dragon only cawed happily in response, before letting out a huge yawn; jaws gaping open to reveal two neat rows of sharp, pointed teeth.

"A bit sleepy are we?" Kian questioned with mirth.

The dragon stretched out like a cat, tail and neck reaching out to their limits before settling back into a more comfortable position. The beast then turned and hopped off the bed corner onto the wooden floor.

"Wait, where are you-?"

It crawled over with the use of its wings towards the lit fireplace along the farthermost wall, and sat before the flames with its head tipped up, letting the heat warm the expanse of its small chest. The fireplace was part of the few luxuries this house had to offer. Very few homes offered second story fire pits, and so the ones that did were naturally more expensive and usually reserved for the well-off in Skyrim.

Kian felt another smirk grace his face, he sure was doing that a lot tonight, and moved to settle on the floor behind the baby dragon.

"You like the heat, huh?" he asked, knowing it wouldn't respond, but wanting to fill the still, and quiet air.

He started running his fingers along the back of the dragon's head where it joined the neck, and the scaly thing let out the longest purr yet as it craned its neck back even farther to push back into Kian's attentions.

With a smile given towards the hatchling's antics, Kian took a moment to actually observe the dragon fully. Its back was covered in thick, dark scales that almost blended in with the night's shadows, while its stomach was covered with pale, creamy colored ones. It was a coloring style he had never seen on the other dragons, and he could only wonder which of them had sired the young one. Its proportions were vastly different from that of a full grown dragon. What would likely someday be a proud set of horns and deadly spikes running down its spine were, at this point, no more than rounded nubs poking slightly out from its scales and head. And speaking of its head, the thing was almost as large as its upper body, and Kian had a hard time believing the beast could actually lift its skull on that skinny neck it sported.

Its clawed toes were oversized compared to its spindly legs, and the hatchling's wings barely reached past its body when tucked. There was no way the thing could lift itself off the ground with that.

"You, my friend, are far from fearsome."

The dragon only tilted its head again, still looking at him upside down. After a moment, the scaly creature turned around and crawled into Kian's lap, wrapping its tail around itself and curling into a ball. Kian sighed again, and went back to running a hand along the back of the small thing. It truly had been a surreal night. A sudden thought sprang to mind.

"Are you a male, or female?" he asked.

The dragon perked up at the sound of the man's voice, but only gave a quiet _rurrr_ in response. Kian nearly slapped himself. Was he losing his mind? The thing couldn't understand him, why was he talking to it so much?

"Right. Sorry if I'm being rude, but…" Kian flipped the dragon onto its back, and the thing let out a few squeals of protest. "Hm… alright, a boy."

He righted the dragon at last, and lifted it so both man and beast were at eye level with each other. If Kian wasn't questioning his sanity at this point, he would say the dragon was definitely looking at him with annoyance sparkling in those huge, ruby eyes.

"Well… I suppose I need something to call you, yes? Just saying dragon all the time is going to get confusing. Not to mention, boring."

Kian thought for a moment, head leaning from side to side as ideas bounced around in his head. The dragon copied him with an amused look, as if they were playing a game. Meanwhile, the Dragonborn was tossing around letters and syllables, trying to conger up something suitable. It should sound somewhat intimidating. Serious at the least. He wasn't naming a dragon something inane like Meeko or Stump. But the last thing he wanted was something complex and hard to pronounce, he'd had enough of some of these dragon's mouthful names. After a time, Kian jumped up suddenly with an exclamation, lifting the dragon high into the air above him.

"I've got it! I shall call you Scarn!"

The newly named dragon scrawed happily, just as excited as the Dragonborn, but unsure as to why.

A loud knock at the door startled the dark haired man, and in a flurry of rushed movement, he tossed Scarn down onto his bed and covered him from sight with a sheet, ignoring the dragon's squawk of protest.

"My Thane? Are you all right?" Lydia's voice came, slightly muffled, through the door.

"Ah, yes! Yes, I'm just fine Lydia, do you need something?"

"No, sir, I simply heard you shouting from downstairs and wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

"Everything's fine, Lydia, I just… stubbed my food against the bed… again." Kian heard a quiet scoff coming from outside.

"You and that bed seem to have animosity brewing."

"Mm, perhaps I should challenge it to a duel. Settle our score once and for all!" The Dovakiin joked, picking up the trail of a long running joke between them. He heard Lydia's laughter from beyond the door.

"Well, I brought up a tray of food for you. I had some stew and bread cooked up quickly; I know you haven't eaten since you left this morning."

Now, Kian moved to open the door and speak to his friend and comrade face to face.

"What do you mean? I eat just fine." An eye roll was her only response.

"Yes, I'm sure you remembered to have lunch today and didn't just keep riding straight towards the outskirts of Skyrim."

Kian took a moment to look offended, before a growling stomach interrupted the bickering pair. A look was exchanged, before both broke out into peals of laughter.

"Well, I guess that speaks for itself." Kian chuckled good humoredly.

"Yes, indeed." Lydia handed the tray off to him. The bowl of warmed liquid smelled like heaven to the adventurer's empty stomach. "Have a good night, my Thane."

Lydia gave another bow before retiring to her own room across the hall. Kian shut the door with a relived sigh, and sat heavily down on the bed. An indignant squeak caught his attention, and the Dragonborn hurried to dig Scorn out of the pile of bed clothes he was buried under.

"Apologies, there. I had forgotten all about you for a second."

The little dragon gave him a look of annoyance, and stuck its tongue out in retaliation.

"Hey now, I'm taking you into my home and bed, and this is how you treat me?" he ended with a good natured smile.

The dragon had now become enraptured with the tray perched on Kian's lap. Sniffing at the air, Scarn cautiously crept forward towards the bowl, his eyes flickering up towards the Imperial's face as he approached. For a moment, the Dovakiin was confused, until he remembered this was still a wild animal he was housing.

"Are you worried I'll take this from you, little thing? Ha, if I wasn't going to feed you, I wouldn't have brought you home."

The man pushed the stew bowl towards the edge of the tray, and Scarn eagerly stuck his face into the soup, gulping down large mouthfuls of the mixture and every so often, stopping to chew on a large hunk of rabbit floating around the bowl. Kian lifted a spoon and joined in, quelling his own hunger in the process.

As the night reached its peak, Kian set the now empty food tray on the floor, deciding to bring it down stairs in the morning. Skyrim's greatest hero ditched his armor, as well as his stiff and dirty tunic, splashed his face with water from a dish sitting on his dresser, and at last crawled into his warm, comfy bed. As he leaned over to blow out the remaining candle, the Dovakiin felt movement beneath the bed sheets. Scarn snuggled up against the adventurer's side, and with a look of warm fondness, Kian laid himself down, tucking the sheets around himself and his dragon.

Tomorrow would certainly be hell; the Dragonborn was sure of that. But those Oblivion gates could be opened once the sun was up. And when he wasn't so tired.


	3. To the Jarl

**Chapter 3:**

A glaze of orange rays lit the dark behind Kian's eyelids, and with a groan he blinked them open to a room now clearly visible in the noon light. For a moment, the warrior blinked and stared slack jawed at the empty space in front of him before his mind at last began turning. With a shake of his head and a sudden jolt of conscious thought, Kian lifted the thick curtains covering the window beside his bed and was greeted with the bustling streets of Whiterun.

"Noon already?" he murmured to himself. "Gods, I must have been tired." A sudden yawn was his body's only response.

The dragonborn flopped rather ungracefully onto his back, and locked eyes with the wooden boards that made up the ceiling. His muscles lacked any motivation to hoist himself from bed, and Kian could find no strength in his mind to force them. Today was a day he felt best spent in bed. The winter months were soon approaching, and the air even in midday was crisp and chilled. Here, at least, the sheets and mattress were warm and snug around his body, spreading a pleasant heat through the core of his being.

In fact, his chest felt rather too warm. Lifting the blankets, the dovakiin was met with a black ball of smooth scales curled tightly in on itself and resting upon his stomach. Kian let out a groan as his head hit the pillow once more.

Yes, the dragon hatchling. Something still had to be done about this. Well shit, now he would have to get up.

He lifted the blankets once again to get a better look at the hatchling nestled on his bed clothes. Kian sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation in his voice. He still had no idea how to feel about the situation. Sure, the little thing had wriggled his scaly way onto the dragonborn's good side, and Kian had no qualms about the moral choice he had made, but there was still the question of what next.

Where do you house a dragon? Certainly not in a well-known city full of people and little open space. What do you feed them when they're this young? How do you raise one to begin with? The imperial's mind boggled at all the implications of housing this young beast, and not for the first time he contemplated if he was in over his head.

Scarn still lay in his balled up position, letting out little snores with each exhale of his breath. Curious, Kian gently let a hand hover just slightly above the dragon's back. A low heat radiated off the coal colored scales. So that extra warmth was the dragon. Odd; it was as if the flames from within the beast were raising the temperature of its whole body, like a furnace warming its container.

Scarn shuffled in his sleep, and unconsciously reached his neck out towards the hand placed motionless above his sleeping spot. Kian smiled to himself as he lowered his palm so the dragon could snuggle into it. The dovakiin felt his mind settle in that small moment he spent stroking his new dragon, and reminded himself of what the greybeards had taught him during his visits to High Hrothgar.

 _Focusing too closely on the details of a situation will blind you to the answers. Some things come with time and patience; do what you can now, and solutions will come to you when they will. Never forget; dragonborn or no, you are still a man, and can only do so much._

Arngeir had proved to be a welcome source of advice and guidance to Kian when the weight of destiny seemed too much to carry, and that conversation had been a particularly necessary one when it became clear to the voice masters that their dragonborn was starting to run himself ragged with quests.

Using another technique he had been taught, Kian took a deep breath to regain his focus, and rose to a sitting position on his bed. Scarn gave an indignant squawk as his bed moved and evicted him to his lap. Moving the dragon onto the mattress itself, Kian rose and stretched himself out in preparation for the day.

"There's no time to sleep in, little one. We have problems to solve, and answers to find that need to be found now." As the adventurer moved about the room to dress himself, he took stock of the day's necessities.

"Research is probably the most important tool we have at this point. If I'm going to care for you properly, I need a better understanding of how dragons work. We can start in the Dragonsreach library. The Jarl's wizard has been particularly fascinated with dragons, so he should have something we can work with. Balgruuf needs to be told of the dragon eggs as well; so we can kill two birds with one stone. If their books turn up nothing, we can always head to High Hrothgar and ask the greybeards themselves; they have more history with the dragons than anyone."

Kian turned back to Scarn, who was watching him with unfocused, sleepy eyes.

"And… I guess I need to find a better place to keep you. You won't be this small forever; I know that much. And there's no way I can keep you from Lydia forever; that woman is too smart for her own good sometimes."

It could have been the last remints of sleep hazing Kian's mind, but it seemed as though Scarn's expression turned saddened at his last statement. Kian paused and rubbed at the scruff beginning to grow along his chin.

"Well, that may be something we can figure out later. You only hatched yesterday, after all. How big can you get in a few weeks' time?"

The imperial stood before a dusty mirror hanging on one of the walls in his room, adjusting the traveling cloak over his shoulders and taking one last look at his appearance before hoisting a now emptied traveling back to his shoulders. Now his attention turned to the black dragon hatchling sitting on the dresser top before him, a new problem presenting itself; leave the dragon, or take it with him?

"Hrm… leaving you here seems too dangerous; who would feed you when you got hungry? And if Lydia is still hanging around the house during the day and you start causing a ruckus, it would be over for you for sure. Gah, but the outside is dangerous, too. It would be hell for you I'm sure to be crammed in a pocket the whole day, and any pickpocket could discover your hiding space. Not to mention; if I get into a fight you could be vulnerable to a hit inside of my cloak…"

In the end, Kian decided keeping Scarn close to him was a better decision than leaving him locked in a room for anyone to find. So he packed a blanket inside the bottom of his pack, and settled the little dragon inside of it. Luckily, Kian suspected Scarn was more intelligent than he looked, as he allowed himself to be handled into the makeshift nest and put up no protest when the cover was clipped on and lifted back to the dragonborn's shoulders.

"Alright boy, hang on and keep quiet, we're heading out."

* * *

After dodging Lydia's questions about breakfast, only appeasing her by grabbing an apple and a slice of buttered bread as he headed out the door, Kian made his trek through the main streets of Whiterun. Today was just as busy as any other. The town's citizens bustled about their daily business, venders tended to stalls and shops, and children ran about in troops off to cause some kind of disturbance he was sure. The young citizens of Whiterun could be rather troublesome if they felt like it.

Kian sauntered down the roads with the usual demeanor of confidence he displayed. Guards acknowledged his passing with a slight bow and a quick "My Thane," before moving on their rounds. Things had come a long way from his arrival at Skyrim, when he had been carted into Helgen bound in rags as a criminal. And yet, as he spotted the Battle-borns once again caught in an argument with one of the Gray-manes, it seemed very little would change. The dovakiin decided on a quick detour to keep the peace in Whiterun; the Jarl would still be in his keep when he finished.

"Alright boys, back away from the stand." The adventurer thrust an arm between the wooden counter and one of the Battle-borns, forcing the group to step back from the elderly woman standing behind it.

"I thought we had an agreement that there would be no more harassing of Fralia behind the stand, especially not during heavy business hours."

"Pfa, bug off, Kian. You've always had a soft spot for those Gray-manes, and I see it still hasn't changed."

The leader of the group jabbed an accusatory finger towards the dovakiin's chest. It was clear to see that both he and his companions were rather drunk on rage at this point into the confrontation. This would have to be handled with a bit of intimidation after all.

"Idolaf, you know that's not fair. I've given you and your family my ear many times before, but I will not stand for this feud of yours when it condones obstructing the business of an elderly member of Whiterun. You and your brothers need to cool down. I suggest you leave before I get the guards involved. Again."

Idolaf stepped farther back, squeezing his eyes shut and growling in frustration, before motioning to the other Battle-borns and stalking angrily out of the square. Kian watched them go with a mix of pity and disappointment. Idolaf and the others were good people, he could see that plain as day. But their stubborn loyalty to their side of the conflict blinded them to fact that the people they fought against were human, too. The first thing the man had asked Kian upon his arrival to Whiterun was 'Gray-mane or Battle-born?' and had quickly been declared one of the stupidest things Kian had ever been asked.

"Thank you for stopping those brutes again, Kian."

Though they certainly weren't the only one.

"Of course, Fralia. They have no right to keep you from your customers like that."

The old lady smiled kindly at him.

"You've always been such a good friend to the Gray-manes."

Kian shook his head again as he helped Fralia straighten the items that had been toppled across the counter space.

"Not just to you, Fralia, I'm Thane of Whiterun; my job is to help any citizen of this town."

"Well, yes, but you've done so much to help us pull one over the Battle-borns, what with how you grabbed those documents from- "

'Fralia, please!" Kian interrupted her tirade, looking around to make sure none had heard her almost declaration of theft, especially any Battle-borns. "I don't help you because I want to pick sides; I believed it was wrong for them to hold your son unduly captive when he had yet to do anything wrong. I still believe the Battle-borns are a good family, just with misguided principles."

Fralia merely shook her head with a sad smile.

"How can a man who has seen so much still be so naïvely optimistic…"

"It's just a part of my charm, dear." Kian jibbed with a smile.

Fralia chuckled in response. "If you have the time, feel free to stop by the house for dinner tonight. I'm sure the boys would like to thank you properly for what you've done for us."

"I'll think about it. For now, I must get to see the Jarl."

"Another time then, my Thane."

* * *

The steps up Dragonsreach were always a climb, and Kian felt as if he had scaled the Throat of the World itself by the time he came to the large castle doors. He hesitated for a moment before them, and the fortress suddenly felt as strange and daunting as his first trip within. Swallowing his nerves, the dragonborn pushed the doors open with a loud creak.

The main hall within Dragonsreach was warm as always, with a grand hearth burning in its center, surrounded by tables. A few guards and soldiers looked up at his entry, but after seeing the familiar face, they turned back to their work. Kian made his way past the set out food and drink and up to the stairs the Jarl's throne was perched above. The hall felt longer than the last time he had walked it, and the dragonborn was hyperaware of the weight within his travel pack.

Now barely keeping a lid on panic, Kian stood before Jarl Balgruuf with a dry mouth and no idea what to say. The Jarl was generally a very relaxed man, evident in even his stance. Almost laying across the arms of his chair with legs stretched out across the floor and a hand propping up his head. Now, he was looking into the hall's fire pit with a glazed look in his eye as his steward prattled on about something or other. Both Kian and Balgruuf were of similar opinion that Proventus could go on about rather inane topics.

Kian stood slightly off to the side, arms folded behind his back, waiting for Proventus to finish. The Jarl blinked and caught sight of his Thane from the corner of his vision. With an urgent hand, he silenced the steward and waved him off.

"Ah, Kian! Nice to see my dragonborn once again. It's been some time since you've stopped by, hasn't it?"

"Still not your dragonborn, Balgruuf." Kian said with a smirk. The exchange had become a private joke since he helped deter the Stormcloaks from conquering Whiterun. Though, quickly, his expression became serious.

"I have matters do discuss, about the… dragons."

"So? Speak, Thane, or did the dragons steal your tongue?"

"Actually, Jarl, I believe we should speak in private. It would not do for this to spread across the town and cause preemptive panic."

The Jarl's face grew somber. He wordlessly stood, and led the way up the stairs into the strategy room. A few other soldiers littered the room, wondering about or chatting between each other. They all turned to watch as the Jarl and Thane entered the room.

"Clear out. Everyone."

Balgruuf's voice was not harsh or angered, but the command was given with such short snappiness, all those within the room left with quickness.

"Alright, Kian, I think I best sit down for this one."

"You'd be right, Jarl, I think this could change the nature of our war entirely."

* * *

Atop a mountain that bordered a small village on the fringes of Skyrim, a shadow covers the door to an ancient tomb. A black form with leathery wings and a set of horns that topped his head like a crown surveyed the entrance with a fiery red gaze. There was no need to open the door. The smells that permeated the air told him all he need to know. Or, the absence of smells did.

The tomb was empty, no doubt about it. There was not a sign of life to be found. Except for one. A single trail that entered and came out again. A scent he had smelled before; one of his own blood, but that was not one of his own. One who had proved to be his enemy time and time again. A low growl that could shake the earth rumbled from a mouth filled with sharp teeth.

He had suffered humiliation at the hands of this one time and time again. This was the last wound he would take from this flea. Now, more than ever, he and the rest of his kind would bow before their true betters; or burn in their flames.

"Dragonborn… we will finish this."

With a mighty flap of wings, the shadow leaves his perch and vanishes into the sky.


	4. Dragon Eggs

**Chapter 4:**

" _EGGS!"_

The words rang out loud and sharp through the stone room. Kian was almost tempted to cover his ears at the pure pitch of the outburst, but resisted. It wouldn't do to appear out of control in this situation, lest anyone they relied on for leadership begin to lose faith.

"Aye, Jarl. I know it sounds… absurd, but it's true. I saw the nest for myself. Felt the egg shells in my hands."

"What proof do you have of this?" Balgruuf fell back into his seat with a heavy _thump_ , gesturing towards the dragon born with a tired hand.

Kian reached into his bag, which sat now on the ground by his feet. He took no more than a moment to look over Scarn, who was asleep in his little nest of cloth. It seemed as if he barely moved from that morning. With a silent prayer of thanks, the adventurer scooped his evidence out from beside the young dragon. The egg shells fell with a dull sound onto the table top before the Jarl. Reaching forward uncertainly, Whiterun's leader felt the curved shards under his hands. The outsides were black and rough, with a texture that gave the appearance of scales running over the bumps and ridges on the uneven surfaces. The insides were a pure white, almost blinding in its contrast from the outside. The Jarl ran a finger along the inside, scooping up a thin membrane from along the surface. He rubbed the substance between his thumb and forefinger, a disparaging look adorning his face.

"That is certainly egg yolk…" his voice was little above a strained whisper with barely enough strength to reach the dragonborn's ears.

"Are you sure these belong to a dragon? There's never been anything in any records of the dragon legends that mentioned eggs, or that they could even have offspring."

"I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt. There were dragon hatchlings in these eggs."

"Yes, but how do you know? There's any chance it could be another sort of large creature; some large bird or lizard or something. It would certainly make more sense than dragons."

Kian's eyes fell to his bag of their own accord. It would be so easy, just pull out the dragon from his bag, explain the whole thing, there would be no way the Jarl could doubt him with a living, breathing dragon in his war room. But then… he shouldn't care about this dragon anyway, both he and Skyrim would be better off with it dead. But…

Kian settled a hand on the wooden strategy table, looking at a map of Skyrim, stretching to each border and the sea.

"I found the nest here," he pointed to the mountain range near Skyrim's western border. "From a village so small it doesn't even have a proper name. It was inside an old Nordic tomb, even older than Bleak Falls Barrow, though not as grand. In the deepest chamber, probably made to house an important leader's remains, I saw a room stripped bare of any decorations filled to the edges with a mashed collection of straw, moss, and leaves. The walls were covered with blackened scorch marks, claw marks that were deeply cut into the stone, and the print of a clawed foot I knew too well. It was a dragon; I swear it on my duty as a dragonborn."

Jarl Balgruuf had been perched on the edge of his seat, at relaxed heavily back into it, with a variety of harsh curses spat from his lips. His hands came up to cover his face, and the Jarl sat hunched over himself for a few moments, before straightening up with a look of reserved calm on his face.

"What is our plan, then, to move forward with this new information."

Kian couldn't help but smile. Some people were made for the leadership role.

"Our biggest disadvantage right now is ignorance. We need to consider how the dragons are reproducing before we can decide what angle to go at this from. But-"

"But you already have an idea for what we can do to combat the problem in small ways for now."

Kian looked rather stunned for a moment, and his face must have been comical, for Balgruuf tossed his head back in laughter.

"I know you well, Kian. We have worked together for some time now."

Kian smirked in agreement.

"I think we should make parties to search more possible areas that dragons could be roosting in. Places like the ones I found; old tombs, caves, abandoned mines, anywhere large enough to house a dragon could be a nest."

"Our forces are stretched rather thin already with the rebellion as of late, Kian."

"We don't have to spare many, at least not while we're still in the dark. Just a small group of those willing and trust worthy."

"Trust worthy?"

"We'll need people we can trust to keep this a secret. The last thing we need are rumors and panic spreading while we still don't have a clear plan."

"Well, who would you suggest then?" the Jarl asked with clear skepticism.

"Don't worry, I know someone who'd be more than willing to take up the task."

"Very well. I guess I can leave this with you for now."

"Definitely, Jarl."

The man let out a tired sigh.

"Thank the divines. Though I doubt I will be at peace for a while with this new information, the rebellion demands my attention at this moment. I will be glad to hand the reins of this off to you."

"You can always count on me Balgruuf."

"I'm aware." The older man said with a smile.

After exchanging farewells, Kian took off downstairs to track down the Jarl's wizard. As usual, Farengar could be found bent over his work table studying from the many books stacked in high piles across it.

"Morning, Farengar." Kian greeted with breath heavy from his running.

It took a moment for the dovakiin's greeting to pierce through the veil that seemed to surround the wizard's awareness when he was amid his work.

"Hm? Oh, Kian. Yes, good morning."

The magician turned back to his books, seemingly under the impression that the conversation was over.

Kian stood for a few moments with clear annoyance on his face, before clearing his throat harshly.

"Hm? Oh, did you need something?" At last the wizard closed his book and placed it to the side, a sign he was ready to give Kian his full attention.

"Yes, I need to consider a matter regarding the dragons. Do you still have the notes you've taken?"

"Do I have the notes? I'm still adding to them!" With an added spring to his steps, the court sorcerer almost flew across the room in his eagerness to gather up his research.

Farengar seemed to have an almost feverish fascination with the dragons. As soon as news reached of their return, the man had set out scraping together as much as he could find on them, and now continued to look further into obscure works for hints on their hidden nature, which he would gather and compile into a stack of theories as to the beast's inner workings.

The stack of parchment hit the table with enough force to shake the thing, standing before Kian as a dense brick of words and diagrams. In his time, the dragonborn had faced down intimidating creatures of all kinds, but faced with this intense collection of info he would have to sift through, he felt genuinely intimidated.

"How did you find all of this?"

"Well our records strictly about the time of the dragons are incredibly minimal, so most of this is speculation I sparced out of lymrics and songs from the era."

"That's… incredibly impressive Farengar." Kian said with genuine surprise.

"It's a simple process in the realm of research." He started segmenting out the pages into groups that Kian could not make sense of. "Is there anything in particular you are looking for? It will likely be easier if I helped you navigate." The wizard spoke with an air of bragging that Kian was very used to at this point.

"Do you have anything on who the dragons were themselves?"

The wizard scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Well of course, that's one of the only things well documented and consistent through every source. The Nords were not willing to forget the names of their former overlords and enemies so easily."

Farengar delicately plucked a thin parchment from the center of the stack, somehow avoiding misplacing a single other sheet from their order, and handed it to Kian. Turning to lean against the aged wood desk, the dovakiin skimmed across the names scrawled in fancy and deliberate writing.

 _At least he made it legible._ The dragonborn moaned internally; parsing words from the scribbled mess of some people's handwriting could be an insurmountable task in and of itself.

 _Alduin, Durnehviir, Paarthurnax, Sahloknir…_

"Farengar, this only states their names."

"Yes, that is what you asked for."

"Well I was looking for more specific information about the dragons…"

"Oh! Why did you not say so?" The wizard spoke as he flipped quickly through more pages on the desk. "There's plenty written on Alduin, and Paarthurnax as well, major players in the Dragon War, some other stuff about their habitats- "

"Anything that mentions their gender?"

"Ah…" The Jarl's sorcerer cast a confused glance at his work, then up to Kian. "How do you mean?"

Kian dropped his gaze for a moment, feeling conflicted. He had hoped to swipe the information he needed without alerting anyone else to the new situation, but if there was any possibility Farengar had what he needed, perhaps the risk was worth taking.

"I need to know if any of the dragons were female."

The crease between Farengar's brow deepened and he slowly turned a few pages idly beneath his fingers.

"I don't believe so, Kian. None of the records or songs had ever been specific; and whenever a named dragon was mentioned, it was always addressed as a 'he.' Dragons likely didn't even reproduce normally, or at all. From what can be found, they seem to be immortal creatures, and have no need to maintain population numbers."

A pit settled in Kian's gut. _Then what's in my pack?_

Now the warrior faced exactly what he was afraid of; Farengar's curiosity.

"Why, exactly, would it be important to know of the dragon's genders?" He asked in a low whisper, desire laden like honey on his tongue.

"I don't think it's exactly any of your business, wizard." Kian fired back in a low grumble.

"I plead you, Kian!" Farengar's tone changed to whinny desperation. "This is my life's most important work here! I feel a drive to complete and know all about this returned enemy of ours; if you know anything at all, I beseech you to tell me!"

"Farengar, this is dangerous information. I'm afraid if anyone hears of this, word will spread faster than can be contained, and combined with the height of current tempers such panic could thrust Skyrim into destructive chaos. I can't trust anyone else to not let this out."

Farengar rose from his chair with sudden speed to confront the dragonborn on equal ground.

"I have been one of the Jarl's trusted advisors for years of his rein; if I cannot be trusted with sensitive information then I doubt there could be found anyone capable!"

Kian's gaze kept its steal.

"As well," Farengar added now with a slyer tone to his voice. "The value of such information could be enough to pay for my silence. And rumors made from falsities can be far more destructive than the truth."

 _Damn, I've been backed into a corner…_

The dragonborn winced internally at his lack of preparation. It was always easy to forget how men of wisdom often had the slick tongues of snakes. Though Farengar did perhaps have a point. If anyone was aware of the true danger of dragons, it would be the man who worked tirelessly in pursuing study of them. One more was less likely to hurt.

"Alright; but we have to go somewhere with more privacy. And what we talk about does not leave the keep."

"Of course, dovakiin." The wizard bowed towards him and gestured off to an adjoining chamber, one of the many sitting rooms cut into the stone of Dragonsreach.

Once inside, Kian gently settled his bag onto the small table taking up most of the interior while Farengar checked for eavesdroppers and closed the door, slipping the bolt into place with an audible _clang_.

Reaching back into his sack, Kian pulled the broken egg shell out once again.

"Alright, so this- "the words had barely left his mouth before his hands were suddenly empty, and Farengar was bent over the table staring intently at the shards.

"An egg?!" he cried with disbelief.

"Not so loud, man! Or do you wish to break your promise before you even have a chance to keep it?" Kian barked indignantly.

"This cannot be. It's just not possible…" the wizard muttered intently to himself as he ran his hands across the scale like grooves covering the shell's exterior.

"Well it is true. Make no mistake, I saw a complete one with my own eyes. The nest too. These are dragon eggs."

"But this… this could alter everything. All of my research, all of everyone's research!"

"It also changes the game." Kian interjected, leaning over the table to see the egg parts again. "If the dragons are trying to strengthen their numbers, they could overwhelm us once again."

"Yes, indeed." Farengar's gaze turned downward, a look of contemplation taking over his face. "What's the Jarl's plan, then?"

"Nothing yet. This is my task as of now. I have some ideas, but I need to figure out exactly how the dragons are reproducing. I was hoping you had something on the subject, but I guess now I'll have to make the journey to High Hrothgar and speak to the greybeards."

"Hm, yes. They would likely be your best option. Do you plan to leave immediately?"

"As soon as I leave Whiterun." Kian nodded in agreement.

"Very well then." Farengar handed the shell back to the adventurer, who put it into his pack and slung it back over his shoulders. "I wish you luck, dragonborn."

With a nod in Farengar's direction, Kian left the wizard and walked back into the main hall, only to find the Jarl waiting for him.

"I was hoping to catch you before you left." Balgruuf greated with his usual confident smile on his face.

"Any particular reason?" Kian questioned.

"Not at all. But is has been sometime since we've had time to talk of more casual matters, and I hoped to exchange some words before you vanished again."

Kian chuckled in response, and met the Jarl's stride as they meandered to the entry way.

"I suppose that is my fault. I have been making camps in the wild more often than I have lain in my own bed."

"I am not truly surprised, Kian. You've always had an air of restlessness around you; suppose that's what got you into Skyrim in the first place."

"Though not under good terms…" Kian grumbled.

"For certain." The Jarl jibbed as he slapped a hand across his Thane's back. Kian cringed at the impact.

"Still haven't lost that iron muscle."

"What kind of Jarl would I be if I had?" they both erupted into laughter as they reached the large wooden doors. The mood began to turn somber again.

"So, where are you headed now?" the Jarl asked.

"Well Farengar was a bust, so I my next step is to seek council from the grey-beards."

The blond Nord hummed in agreement.

"Are you leaving immediately?"

"Yes, I'll be off again. As much as I love Whiterun, it will be some relief to be amongst open sky." _And maybe get this dragon out of my pack at last,_ he added silently. Scarn must be feeling suffocated by now.

"Here and off again, as expected." The Jarl shook his head. "Someday I fear you may leave and not come back." His expression held signs of honest worry, and Kian felt a twinge of guilt in his gut.

"I've been fine every other time, and I will be again. It's only High Hrothgar, I've been there enough." With a shove, Kian began to lever the doors open. "Besides, I doubt anyone could be more skilled than I am in keeping myself safe."

The bright disk of sunlight that was supposed to enter the hall once the door opened was blocked by a silhouette Kian almost ran into. Kian and Balgruuf jerked back in surprise of a moment at the sight of the armored woman standing before them at the entrance.

"L-Lydia?" Kian questioned, shocked.

"I'm coming with you." She asserted.

 _Oh, shite._


	5. Taking a Dragon to Ivarstead

**Chapter 5:**

"No." Kian spat for the tenth time as he stormed through the streets of Whiterun toward the gate, Lydia hurrying to keep pace just behind him.

"My Thane, forgive my rudeness, but if you would get out of your own thick head for a moment and listen to me- "

"No, Lydia, you listen!" Kian whirled on her with anger flaring in his eyes. "I get that you care; I know you're sworn to your 'duty' but I do not need a nanny nor a baby sitter. I don't need you to escort me to High Hrothgar, so bug off!"

Lydia's expression turned from shock to indignation faster than a lightning strike.

"Oh, you don't need my help, do you? Is that why you only come home five days out of the month, arriving in the depths of night only to leave at day break again? Is that why every time I see you, you look like you're about to keel over where you stand? Is that way you look as if death has chased you from Solitude to Helgen on the regular? Kian, you can't keep going like this, you'll die!"

The adventurer recoiled from her ferocity, and turned away from her in shame, unable to voice his objections in a way that would not sound dismissive and self-deprecating. Lydia seemed to calm herself as well, though conviction still burned strong within her.

"I only wish to help you. You disappear for so long, and I have no clue where you've been. I feel as if I no longer know you, when you used to ask me to accompany you to the most remote reaches of Skyrim. And it's not just out of duty as your housecarl." She injected, cutting off Kian's retort. "It's because I am your friend, and I feel as if you no longer need me." Her voice trailed off with dejection tinging the tone.

Kian winced at the sound, and placed a hand across the woman's shoulders.

"Oh, Lydia. I'm not trying to push you away, it's just that there are many dangers I must face as a part of who I am. And I wish not to drag you into business that is mine and mine alone."

With a scoff, she pushed his arm away.

"Have I yet to prove to you that this sword on my belt is not for decoration? And the weight of a problem is no burden if taken for a friend." Her jabs still contained their bite, but Kian refused to cower and stood firm in his conviction, ready to retort.

"In another lover's spat again, you two?"

A jovial voice broke the tense atmosphere, and both warriors swung their heads towards it. A blond headed Nord with a short cropped beard dressed in the garb of a Stormcloak strode into the square they had stopped to argue in.

"Ralof, you old crow!" Kian greeted lightly as he broke from Lydia to greet his longtime friend.

They met in a grasp of arms before pulling into a quick hug and moving apart once again.

"So what's sent a Stormcloak like you slinking into an Imperial den?" Kian jibbed in an effort to press a few soft spots.

Ralof responded with a smirk and pulling Kian in with an arm wrapped around his neck.

"Insinuating I am a traitor, are we, Dragonborn? And here I though you didn't pick sides." Ralof countered, falling into their easy banter.

Lydia walked over to them at last, shaking her head in disapproval, though a smile has taken her face in place of her former stormy mood.

"Ralof, honestly, you keep cracking jokes like that and the town is like to believe Kian _is_ taking me into his bed."

Ralof only offered a shrug.

"I feel some may already. Any unmarried man and woman living beneath the same roof is like to set imaginations running. And Kian would not be the first to take a housecarl to bed."

Kian paused for a moment, at last catching the glances of a few citizens who had been witnessing their… confrontation earlier.

"I do hope they don't seriously think that."

Ralof chuckled.

"Ever the hero, aye, Kian? Always looking to maintain that wholesome, influential image." The Dragonborn only shrugged.

"I do what I can."

The Nord at last released his friend.

"I suppose we have that to blame for loosing you to the cause. Doubt you'd make a good revolutionary anyway."

"Though that does beg the question, why are you here?" Lydia studied the man with a hard gaze.

Though the two were at least mutually companionable, having gotten to know each other being Kian's closet friends, after the Stormcloak attack on Whiterun, Lydia's loyalties left her suspicious. Ralof raised his hands in a form of defense.

"This has nothing to do with Stormcloak business, I swear to you. I was simply back at Riverwood visiting my relatives, and thought I'd stop by to visit an old friend."

It had been sometime since Kian had seen Ralof, what with his constant excursions and the blonde's duties to the rebellion, fate had kept them distant.

"Well I'm afraid this may be a bad time, friend." Kian said with some regret. "I have urgent business with the greybeards, so I am off to High Hrothgar immediately."

"And I told this self-destructive idiot that I was coming with him." Lydia injected with renewed vigor.

Kian cast her a look of disbelief, but before he could counter-

"Perfect!" Ralof spoke with a jovial tone. "We can all go together."

"What?" Kian and Lydia questioned, Kian more with shock and Lydia with curiosity.

"Well I was stopping by because I had nothing that needed attending, and that still has not changed. I can shift my plans for a trip to Ivarstead."

"That sounds perfect!" Lydia looked to Kian with a devious grin.

"Wait, I- "

"Yes, a good excursion with friends, always a joy. Especially in such tumultuous times."

"But I- "

"Indeed. And two sets of eyes can keep a Dragonborn in sight." Lydia growled with a hint of a threat.

"NO!" A bit of dragonshout magic slipped into the force behind Kian's assertion and a gust of wind briefly startled passersby as it tossed leaves and rustled skirts.

"Listen, both of you!" The shock of his voice had startled both Ralof and Lydia into a standstill.

"I know you mean well, but this is personal Dragonborn business that needs to be attended to by myself."

Lydia raised an arm to interject.

"I know you're worried about me Lydia, and you're right, I should check in more often, and I promise to take you on my next, less important excursion. But right now, I need to do this alone."

With the matter settled, Kian turned and stalked off towards the gates.

"And don't follow me!" The Dovakiin shouted back as he disappeared into the cluster of buildings and people.

Ralof sighed in exasperation and rubbed a hand through the back of his blond hair.

"Well I guess I'll bunk down in a tavern for the night and head back to the camp in the morning."

The Nord turned to leave before a strong grip stopped him.

"Lydia?" He questioned. But her attention was trained on where Kian disappeared, gears turning in her head.

"What are you-?"

"Just giving him a head start."

Ralof did a double take towards the city gates.

"You're not…?"

"Oh, but I am."

"Lydia, Kian asked us to respect his wishes. Don't you thing as a friend you should- "

"I gave him plenty of chances to come around on his own."

"Well why- "

"Because something is obviously wrong with him. Don't tell me you haven't noticed, Ralof? He looks like he's been reanimated by a novice necromancer!"

"Aye, those black circles beneath his eyes did seem deep…"

"I know something's weighing him down, and he needs help he's too stubborn to ask for. If he won't tell me willingly, I'll find out myself."

"I'm still not sure I should help." The Nord said with suspicion.

Lydia turned back to him at last.

"Do you wish to leave his health to chance?"

The Nord looked to the sky, where dark clouds were gathering in the distance, a possible sign of first snow.

"Best not."

* * *

Kian continued to cast furtive glances back towards the city long after Whiterun's watchtowers had faded into the distance. Not far from the crossroads outside of the town, the adventurer had taken a sharp detour off the dirt paths and into the rocky, tree covered hills that shaped the landscape of Skyrim's south, and now only allowed himself to relax when he felt little chance of any eyes on him.

Casting another worried look towards the tree line, Kian slung the pack down from his shoulders and lifted the flap open.

"Alright, little one, you can come out- _No Scarn! Don't eat that!_ " Kian exclaimed as he pulled a fraction of eggshell from the young dragon's mouth.

The little beast was caught off guard by the man's sudden removal of his treat and squeaked indignantly at him from the bottom of the traveling sack.

"That stuff's not edible, friend. If you're hungry I can get you something else." The Imperial reached in and scooped the dragon out, blinking his large red eyes as sudden sunlight filled his vision.

The beast started wriggling in Kian's grasp, and the Dragonborn allowed him to ungracefully plop to the forest floor. An excitement seemed to fill the dragon, and Scarn set about stumbling around, sniffing at every rock and leaf he spotted while taking in the outdoors; something that was only being seen for the first time in his life. Kian laughed to himself while the black scaled lizard hopped around with accompanying wing flaps to help propel him farther across the pine strewn floor.

"And here I thought you were hungry."

As if he had spoken the magic words, the dragon's head turned and locked eyes with the man before scrambling over with an unnatural vigor. Scarn came to a sliding stop before Kian, gazing up at him intently.

"Hm. Guess you were." The Dovakiin turned back to his bag and started rummaging through his extra pockets.

"Let's see… cheese?" He offered a slice towards the dragon, who took one sniff and shook his head rapidly in rejection.

"Alright, maybe an apple?" Scarn stepped back from the offering after giving it a once over, and Kian could only stare back in frustration.

"Well I don't really have anything else; and it'll take me who knows how long to even find something to hunt. What _will_ you eat?"

But Scarn seemed to have become distracted, and took off sniffing along the ground towards the trees. With a sigh, Kian let his head drop to rest in his hands, fingering the longer strands of hair that fell beside his face.

Across the clearing, Scarn was locked in immense concentration, eyes trained on the ground before him. Keen vision picked out a rustling amongst the grass and leaves, and with only a pause to collect himself, the dragon pounced with a screech that was trying desperately to be ferocious. Kian looked up, alerted by the sudden noise. A large beetle burst through the undergrowth with Scarn hot on its trail. Before the bug could even scramble halfway across the clearing, the dragon was upon it and scooped it up in its mouth, ending its life with a sudden crunch.

"Bugs, huh?" Scarn chirped in agreement. "I suppose that makes sense, it would be the easiest thing for dragon hatchlings to find when they're this small. It seems you can handle hunting for yourself for now, yes?"

" _Chuuur_!"

"Alright, then. Come now, Scarn, we have a long trek to Ivarstead."

With a motion toward the dragon, Scarn stumbled and flapped over to the adventurer and crawled along behind them as they continued their way through the country side.

* * *

Lydia's hand at last found a grip on a particularly difficult outcropping and hauled herself up the sheer side to rest atop the hill. Ralof joined her a few moments later, panting and massaging his scuffed-up hands.

"How did Kian make it through here?" He questioned with both awe and annoyance.

"He's been scaling mountains almost as long as he's been a Dragonborn." Lydia informed. "I remember how he found the climb to High Hrothgar barely concerning, and was undaunted trying to reach Bleak Falls Barrow."

"We certainly have our work cut out for ourselves tracking him." Ralof muttered as he scanned the surrounding hills, each rockier than the last.

"He was always one to take the most direct route." Lydia commented as she came to stand beside the Nord.

"Alright, which way did he head now?"

Lydia crouched close to the ground, looking over the dirt and rocks with careful scrutiny. At last she spotted a familiar foot print carved into the soft earth.

"Lucky for us, it looks like he took a lower path around here."

"Thank Talos…"

"Wait, what's…" The armored woman trailed off as something else caught her eye.

"What is it?" Ralof questioned as he leaned over her to try and get a look at what she was seeing.

"There's another set of prints here, but I can't tell what they are."

"Another set? I thought he said he was traveling alone?"

"They're not human, that's for sure. Too small, and it looks like whatever it was had claws."

"Claws… Was he hunting something?" Ralof asked, as he looked off into the distance, trying to spot Kian.

"Can't tell, they only show up here or there, and they're not very clean. Like whatever it was had absolutely no sense of balance."

"Perhaps a wounded animal simply scampered by before we got here."

"You may be right." The housecarl straightened and began slowly descending the rocks. "Either way, it's of little importance. We need to keep him within our sights, especially with night approaching."

Ralof did not follow immediately, instead choosing to take a moment and track the progress of the sun.

"I hope I do not live to regret letting you influence me so…"

"Are you coming?!" Lydia called from bellow.

"On my way!" Ralof replied as he descended after her.

Across Skyrim's mountainous peaks, flecks of white began to fall, adding to the piles that never melted from the rocks. The first snow had begun.


	6. Relying on Others

**Chapter 6:**

As night slowly fell across the plains of Skyrim, Kian continued to walk through the low swaths of short brush and the many little creaks that crossed the ground like open veins. The Dovakiin felt no weariness as he walked on, legs and body used to traveling great stretches in short time. Though he knew he would need a place to rest for the night. The ground could be a treacherous enemy if one walked alone in the dark.

Across the adventurer's shoulders, Scarn slithered back and forth, switching sides to keep track of all they passed by and causing the Dragonborn's strides to falter from the balancing act.

"Scarn, would you please keep still?" The admonishment was meant to be scathing, but was followed by joyful guffaws of laughter.

Kian could never seem to put true malice into his voice when addressing the dragon, as if everything Scarn did, no matter how infuriating, tickled the Imperial to his core. Some time ago, the small dragon had become weary from stumbling across the rocky ground and called out to Kian in a whining voice that almost reminded the man of a wailing babe. Though it did make sense, Scarn was barely over two days old, and already Kian was asking he walk the length of Skyrim's coast. So, the Dragonborn had taken Scarn into his arms and allowed the dragon to make his shoulders a perch.

Sunset was a time that the man felt truly exemplified the northern country's beauty. Graceful oranges and reds kissed the boundary between earth and sky, and the harsh shadows cast by the specific light shrouded the land in a blanket of quiet mystery. There was a reason Kian stayed in Skyrim other than his Dragonborn nature; he felt at peace in this land above all others. As if here was a place he could make life his own, apart from who he was born to be or what others thought. A true land of opportunity that Kian had sought with desperate hope. It was what had started his travels in the first place.

Kian thought little about his time before Skyrim these days, and in fact, preferred to never mention them again; but at times he was grateful for it, because without those trials he never would have been pushed into this beautiful country in the first place. Never would have met so many people, seen so many places, done so many great things…

He cast a glance towards the dragon on his shoulders. Even this he could not regret. Wordlessly, Kian reached a hand to scratch the back of Scarn's head. The dragon rumbled a purr in enjoyment at the surprise affection.

"I suppose we should look to settle down, aye friend?"

Scarn's only reply was a drawn-out yawn that stretched the dragon's mouth to full capacity.

"Alright, to the tree line!" Making a sharp turn, the duo headed into the large, squat trees that dotted the landscape.

Eventually, the thick branches closed around each other into a tangle that made for a nice canopy with plenty of shelter above their heads.

"We can make a nice camp here, just in case the snow decides to creep up on us."

After setting Scarn down to scout the area, Kian set about grabbing the sleeping roll from his bag and making a little cozy spot against a tangle of tree roots. The air was slowly turning crisp, and a cold gust forced its way through the tree cover sending a wave of shivers through Kian's body. Tonight, he would be sleeping in full garb, that's for sure.

"Come, Scarn. The sooner we bunk down, the sooner we can get to Ivarstead."

They weren't far off at this point, only a few more miles and across the river and they would be at the small mountain based village. At last, maybe Kian could get some real answers.

"Scarn?" The Dovakiin called when he realized the dragon had not returned. "Scarn?" Kian stepped out into the forest, trying to pick out the beast's dark skin against the deep shadows.

 _I don't suppose he could be doing his business…_ But something wasn't sitting quite right with the adventurer, an odd chill not caused by the wind made its way up his arm.

Out of the gloom, he at last caught sight of Scarn. He was crouched on an old stump, gaze locked intently with the darkness looming from between the trees.

"Scarn? What- "

Kian took note of the dragon's stance. His body was poised and rigid, back arched and chest pressed close to the ground, like a cat on the hunt. His neck was held in a way that retracted the head close to his body in a manner much like a snake about to strike, and the dragon was growling, low and rumbling through the still air, eyes still looking intently into the night.

Kian's own gaze raised to follow, and in that moment, was meant with the burning light of twin ember colored gems. All was still but for a moment.

In the instant the tension was broken, Kian swept Scarn into his arms as the Sabercat lunged from the shadows and flew over the pair as man and dragon rolled across the leaf strewn ground. Kian dropped Scarn from his grasp as he pulled an iron sword from the scabbard at his waist.

"Stay there!" He commanded as a precise swipe was levied at the feline.

The blade bit into the cat's shoulder while it was still recovering from its landing, at the animal howled in pain as a clawed paw shot towards the Dragonborn. Kian dodged with practiced speed and used his roll to gain distance from the enemy. It was a technique he had utilized against many larger foe, dragons and trolls especially. Keep your distance until an opportunity presents itself, then strike.

The cat growled with rage, and stalked in a circle around the edge of the clearing, copying Kian's stride as they followed each other in an odd dance. A sudden burst of movement from behind the Sabercat caught Kian's eye, and the cat followed suit as a dark blur shot from the trees and buried itself into the feline's back.

The Sabercat exploded into a rage, tossing and twisting like a wild horse as it fought to get Scarn off its back. The little dragon had dug in hard with tooth and claw and was refusing to let go, despite the fact he was being rapidly tossed back and forth.

"No!" Kian shouted as he slammed the hilt of his sword onto the cat's forehead.

The beast stumbled as it tried to shake the sudden dizziness it had received, and in the moment of confusion, Kian grabbed Scarn and tucked him close to his chest.

"I thought I said to stay put, you scale brained lizard!" he shouted at the newborn. Scarn was still looking at the cat, while snarling and snapping back at their enemy.

In his moment of distraction, Kian suddenly found himself swept off his feet and tumbling head over heels down the slopped ground, coming to a stop only once he had slammed back first into a tree. Shaking the black spots from his vision, the Dragonborn saw the cat looming before them with a paw raised to strike. Kian raced to think of something to fight with, but his sword had been tossed from his hand, and any spells the man did know now escaped his foggy mind.

But before razor claws could dig into his skin, the feline shrieked again, and stumbled away from its vulnerable prey. His vision now clear, Kian saw the shaft of an arrow sticking from the cat's pelt. Two more flew in quick succession from the bushes, burying themselves deep alongside their brother. The force of the blows sent the animal reeling towards a gathering of bushes at the hill's bottom. A flash of moon light caught the razor edge of an axe as a figure raised it high for a blow.

"Die, beast!" And the man wedged the axe between the cat's eyes. With a spurt of blood the Sabercat fell dead on the forest floor.

Kian lifted himself upright as his saviors stepped closer to where he lay prone on the ground. A strong hand wrapped around his arm and helped him to stand, while the other figure helped to balance the wounded warrior.

"Don't need any help, aye, Kian?" A gruff voice asked with humor.

"R-Ralof?" Kian's eyes went wide in disbelief. _Oh no._

Lydia smirked from his left. "It sure is lucky we- _By the seven, what is that?"_

 _Oh no._

Her sudden scream gave Ralof a start, but when he saw what she was pointing at, the Nord lurched away with his axe once again at the ready, pulling Kian with him. Lydia had notched an arrow in her bow once again and looked to be taking aim, when Kian at last gathered his strength and stumbled towards her.

"No! Stop!" The Dragonborn lashed out and nocked the bow from Lydia's grip as he staggered past to grab Scarn off the ground.

The little dragon curled deep into Kian's chest and whimpered slightly, former aggression washed away at the rough impact.

"Kian, what… What is that?" Lydia asked cautiously, eyes wide and nervous for her friend but unwilling to step any closer.

Kian didn't respond, and kept his gaze locked on Scarn, watching the small ball of scales silently while searching fruitlessly for some way to fix this.

"Kian." Ralof stated with a warning tone, a clear sign that they were growing impatient and waiting answers.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Kian cleared his throat and turned toward his friends.

"This may look bad, but-"

"May? Kian, if that's what I think it is, I worry there may be more wrong with you than I expected!" Lydia exclaimed with disbelief.

"Look, if you will just let me explain, I'm sure I can make sense of all this!"

"I hope for everyone's sake you can." Ralof spoke with a quiet voice, eyes still trained on the now sleeping dragon.

* * *

Sometime later, all three were settled around a crackling fire in the camp Kian had set up. Both Ralof and Lydia sat on their own bed rolls while Kian was resting next to the fire, Scarn curled in his lap. The Dragonborn was stroking the small dragon, resolutely refusing to meet his friend's eyes as he recounted how he found the dragon nest and the eggs. How Scarn had hatched before him, and he had been too much of a coward to kill it. How he had hidden the creature from his friends and was planning on keeping it alive. When he finished, the forest was filled with silence aside from the flame's sparks snapping along the wood.

"Well, this is… unexpected." Ralof broke the silence with something that was meant to sound light hearted, but instead came out unsure and nervous.

Lydia said nothing, eyes locked with the fire without expression. Silence pressed in again, and Kian continued to trace meaningless patterns into the scales on the small dragon.

"I can't believe you." Lydia spoke with a quiet and controlled tone. Scarn flinched, knowing that lack of emotion was often much scarier than any amount of yelling or screaming.

"I'm a disgrace to my name." Kian murmured with a broken voice, a lump forming in his throat.

Ralof's face moved quickly from surprise to concern. Odd as this situation was, calling Kian a disgrace still didn't feel right.

"You think I care about that, you idiot?" Both men looked up in surprise. "What this means to your 'Dragonborn' stature is the _last_ thing on my mind!" Lydia's voice rose to a shout, and she stood towering over the man and his dragon.

"You kept something this huge from everyone and thought you could handle it yourself? This is _exactly_ what I was talking about earlier! You are developing serious trust issues, and something like this is only proof that someday it will prove deadly, not just for you, but for others as well!"

Scarn looked somewhat confused at her claims, but Lydia could rarely be stopped when she was on a rant.

"You thought you could raise a dragon, _a dragon_ , Kian, by yourself? Where were you going to keep it? How would you feed it? What would you do if someone found it? I know you, Kian, when you grow attached to something, it's near impossible for you to let go. Not to mention, if this thing grows into an uncontrollable beast, how will you kill it if it turns against us?"

Kian hid his gaze in shame again. These were questions he had asked himself one too many times, but he had always pushed them off as something he'd deal with later. And now he was paying for it.

"Lydia, please, calm yourself." Ralof interjected.

" _Calm myself?_ Why in all the realms should I do that?"

"Because it's obvious that Kian's in a very confusing place right now!"

"That does not excuse him for thinking so recklessly and endangering himself with one of those monsters!"

" _Scarn isn't a monster!"_ Kian had been silent til now, a protective instinct rising to the surface at Lydia's claim.

"So you've named it now, perfect." Lydia bit back sarcastically.

"He isn't, I swear! He's been nothing but obedient since I found him!"

"Two days ago, Kian! That's not enough time to know the mind of a rat, much less a dragon!"

"Enough, both of you!" Ralof rose to his feet now, tossing the stick he had been fiddling with into the fire, causing a large pop from the flames to accent his shout. "This yelling will not change what is done, we have to consider what we do now."

"I'm heading to High Hrothgar; I had planned on asking the Greybeards about this in the first place."

Lydia continued to look skeptical.

"They know more about the dragons than anyone, surely I can find answers with them. Perhaps they would be more understanding." Kian couldn't stop the malice of his words even if he wanted to. To say he was hurt was an understatement.

Lydia felt a twinge of guilt, and turned back to the fire again. Ralof stood where he was, looking from one to the other.

"Well, we had all best get some sleep then if we wish to finish the trek tomorrow."

Kian jolted and looked up at the blonde Nord for the first time that night.

"Wait, what?"

"I can't say I'm comfortable with your decision, Kian. Nor have I completely grasped that you have a real dragon hatchling, but I am nothing if not loyal. And you proved back in Helgen and many times after that you are a man worth trusting, even if I don't truly understand. Besides, I myself have become curious about this dragon breeding, and if the situation is as dire as it seems, perhaps the Stormcloaks could be convinced to put their hatred aside for a time to help rid Skyrim of dragons once again."

A light returned to Kian's eyes, and the adventurer smiled gratefully at his longtime friend.

Lydia remained quiet, wordlessly turning over onto her bed roll for sleep. Ralof shook his head slowly, and Kian looked disheartened once more.

"Get some sleep, Kian, I'll take first watch. And don't argue; it's clear you don't get enough already."

Not willing to put up a fight, the Dragonborn nodded wearily and settled both himself and Scarn into the warm furs of the bed roll. For a time, Kian merely watched the young dragon sleep. Studying the rise and fall of his body with each breath, and how his exhales rustled the bedding around Scarn's mussel. As he watched the dragon sleep, Kian felt his conviction harden.

"Lydia." He whispered to not disturb Ralof at the clearings edge. 'I'm sorry I lied to you, and I'm sorry you worried so much. But even if this means I lose the right to call myself a Dragonborn, I don't regret my decision. Scarn doesn't deserve to die, and I mean to keep him alive. There's nothing that can be done to stop me."

Without knowing if his housecarl had heard him, Kian relaxed into a restless sleep.

* * *

Kian woke to a sharp poke in his side. Grumbling in discontent, the Dragonborn rolled onto his stomach and pulled the fur blankets over his head.

"And here I thought you wanted to reach High Hrothgar today."

The sound of Lydia's voice jolted Kian to full awareness and he turned back to find the armored woman standing over him with her traveling pack slung over her shoulders.

"Well? The sun's already up and we're losing precious daylight as is with your lagging about." She walked over to Ralof and gave him a sharp kick to the side as well, jolting the Nord from sleep. "C'mon, up you both. Get your stuff together!"

Ralof, and Kian exchanged confused looks, before rising to clean up camp and get on the road once again. Once the furs had been rolled up, the fire pit smothered and breakfast eaten, the party of three, plus one dragon, were off through the wilderness again.

The snow had come during the night, though it was still light for this early into winter, leaving only scattered drifts still standing under the sun's glare. Scarn could not have been more entranced by it. The dragon leapt from pile to pile of the odd white powder, squeaking with excitement as he kicked and tossed it about. The sight brought a welcomed smile to Kian's face, thought Ralof looked rather concerned and confused at the surreal sight of a dragon frolicking in the snow.

The group continued onward, Ralof walking ahead and watching for more possible danger with Lydia bringing up the rear guard. A pile of snow burst into a shower of white and the black dragon flung itself into the air with a joyous shriek, to which Ralof replied with a rather apt impression of a cat being stepped on. Kian burst into laughter as the Nord's face grew red. The blond man instead hurried on quicker down the road to escape both embarrassment and the hatchling that seemed entranced by the new face and eager to play.

Kian paused and watched Scarn scramble after the Nord and felt another odd flash of warmth in his gut, something he felt several times before looking at this dragon. Whatever this emotion was, he lacked the words to name it in his own tongue. Lost in himself as he was, Kian barely registered the sound of Lydia's boots crunching to a stop in the snow next to him.

"I still think you're in over your head," she began in the usual admonishing tone Kian was used to. "But… what is a friend for if not to pull you above water when you are so clearly drowning?" She ended with a look of endearment directed at the Imperial.

With a grunt as she shifted her traveling pack into a better spot on her shoulders, Lydia followed Ralof and Scarn's foot prints farther into the wilderness. Kian continued to watch on for a few moments more, studying the silhouettes of his companions as the rising sun lit the snow and trees aflame once again. Another indescribable feeling welled up within the Dragonborn, and the black-haired man felt change looming on the horizon. Whether good or bad, remained to be seen.


	7. High Hrothgar

**Chapter 7:**

As the sun reached its peak that day, the adventuring trio reached the bridge that connected Ivarstead to the wild lands across the river. The town that stood as a gateway before High Hrothgar lacked the sort of grandeur one would expect, and was not much different from other outlying villages like Riverwood. Houses and shops made of wood harvested from local trees, and nothing more noteworthy within than a tavern for weary travelers. It's only eye catching feature was the roaring river, dotted with short waterfalls, that carved between the two sections of land.

Scarn squirmed within Kian's bag as they crossed the river, new smells and the almost deafening sound of the river's falls making him nervous. Kian shifted the bag to his front so he could cradle the dragon without taking him out.

"Quiet yourself, Scarn," he whispered. "It's only until we get to the mountains."

"He's going to have a field day with all that snow…" Ralof said with a hint of humor.

Both the Nord and Lydia seemed confident and at ease throughout the rest of their travel, but the stiffness in their gate and the larger than usual gap they left between themselves and Kian betrayed their caution around the young dragon. Ralof changed directions towards the tavern as soon as they stepped off the bridge.

"Ralof, we don't have time to stop. I told you we were making straight for Hrothgar!"

"That's well and good for a Dragonborn, maybe, but us mortal men need nourishment. And in light of… recent events," the bag shuffled again. "I need a stiff drink." The blond man swung the door open and vanished into the sounds and smells of the tavern bar.

Kian and Lydia instead made themselves comfortable outside. Kian sat on the ground with his bag now settled in his lap while Lydia leaned back against the banister along the tavern's porch.

"Stormcloaks…" the housecarl muttered with a shake of her head. "This is what the rebel life does to you; no manners, no self-control."

"Maybe their reason for rebellion is the Imperials' uptight attitude." Kian jabbed playfully.

A slight grin lit Lydia's face.

"Says the Imperial?" she questioned as she lightly kicked him with her boot.

"Hey, I'll have you know I am far different from any Imperial."

"Yes, you're part Wildman."

"What?" Kian questioned indignantly.

"Oh, are you trying to deny that you leave your bed cold more often than your bed roll?"

"Damn you, woman, when will you stop holding that against me?" Kian sulked against the tavern porch rather dramatically.

"Perhaps when you give me reason to." Lydia's words were filled with a light laughter, something Kian was glad to hear from her.

As their conversation lulled, the Dovakiin's mood shifted to something more wistful.

"Perhaps you were right, Lydia. It has been too long since I traveled with someone other than my own thoughts. I'm sorry for not bringing you with me sooner."

The warrior woman tapped him with her boot again.

"All is forgiven, my Thane."

The tavern door burst open with a clatter against the wooden wall, and Ralof emerged as though a pack of draugers were on his tail. He leapt over the short stairs leading to the porch and landed with a thump before his companions.

"All right, everyone up, we best start now or we won't make Hrothgar before nightfall!" he spoke with forced cheer as he pulled Kian to his feet and dragged both him and Lydia through town towards the seven thousand steps.

"Ralof? What—" Kian tried to ask before the Nord interrupted.

"No time to talk," he whispered to them both. "Saw a few unsavory characters inside that would not take kindly to catching a Stormcloak in their presence."

"Causing trouble already?" Lydia quipped.

"Save your lectures, woman, let's just get out of here."

"Has everyone forgotten my name today?" Lydia asked as they started up the base of the mountain.

Kian snickered as he followed. Ralof trudged behind with a look of disappointment and a heavy sigh.

"I'll be downing a huge glass of mead once we get back…"

The seven thousand steps that led to High Hrothgar were never an easy task. Most climbers and pilgrims never tried to go farther than the first thousand or so; there was little reason to climb to the top as they would not be admitted into Hrothgar anyways. Kian was in the best shape out of the group by the time they crested the first peak. Though his legs burned from the effort, his breath was still even while Ralof and Lydia wheezed heavily in the sparse air.

"Must they live so far up?" Ralof asked as the group took a break against the rocks dotting the mountain side.

"The Greybeards like to keep themselves separate from the affairs of Skyrim. Their business is dragons, after all, not politics."

"Still could have built something closer to the ground…"

Kian gave a small smile of reassurance to his friend.

"It's not much farther now, just through this pass and up another section."

The Nord let out a long sigh.

"Well, we best finish tonight."

"Are you sure? We can rest longer."

"No, Ralof's right," Lydia interrupted. "The sooner the better."

The trio started into the blizzard once again, each hunched slightly to brace against the cold. A thought struck Kian as he noticed the absence of a certain presence, and he scanned across the snowy scape.

"Scarn? Where has that blasted beast gone off to now?" Frustrated, the Dragonborn sped ahead of the group to search.

He found the hatchling perched on a rocky outcrop that jutted from the mountain into empty air below. The Dragonborn thought to say something, but paused as he took in the sight. The dragon had his head stretched into the wind as far as it could reach, his wings shuffled and body shivered with what Kian guessed as anticipation.

Kian turned his gaze out towards the empty sky, scoured with grey clouds and filmed in white caused by the flurry of snow raining down on them. The clouds looked thick heavy, like one could land safely within their soft embrace if they jumped, and for a moment wondered if Scarn wanted to do just that. Shaking from his thoughts, Kian called to the dragon.

"Scarn, come on, we need to go."

Scarn turned when called, and hopped from the rock into the Dovakiin's waiting arms. The Imperial stroked the beast absently as he walked. Scarn was a dragon, no doubt the instinct to fly was lying dormant within him, waiting until his wings grew big enough to catch the wind themselves. How does one teach a dragon to fly? Kian had once seen a mother bird push her hatchlings from the nest, in a 'learn or die' sort of effort. And though each had taken flight before hitting the ground, Kian had no desire to do that himself.

Scarn began purring once more, and Kian decided to leave those worries for another day, as with most other dragon related things.

As they reached the pass, Kian's eyes lit with nostalgia.

"Hey Lydia, do you think it's still here?"

"Perhaps, if no scavengers made off with it."

"Is what still here?" The Stormcloak questioned.

Kian ran ahead, dragon clutched under one arm, and began digging through the snow against the side of the pass.

"A trophy from Kian's first big kill."

"Aha!" The Dragonborn cried in triumph as he lifted a skull from the snow drift. It was larger than a fist and took both hands to lift, with huge canine teeth making for an impressively fierce maw.

"Is that a Frost Troll skull?" The Nord asked with shock.

"Yes, one set up camp in this pass for a time. The only way Lydia and I could get through was by taking the thing out."

"Kian was so proud of himself. Even got to deliver the killing blow."

"Well of course I was proud. Just the day before I was a bound prisoner of the empire off to be executed, and in the course of a few hours I find myself the hero of a long-forgotten legend, made Thane of a major city, called to see the wisest men in all Skyrim, and killing a beast that gives seasoned adventurer's trouble on my first outing!"

"He made a little… shrine to commemorate it. Though really he just left the creature's skull on a rock."

"Well it was the best I could do at the time…"

"Why not take it with you and store it somewhere else?" Ralof asked.

"I don't know, I think it felt more special to keep it here. In the place it happened."

The adventurer dusted snow off the rock pile he had assembled all that time ago and carefully placed the skull back in its center.

"Alright, it has been nice taking a walk down memory lane, but the sun is starting to set. And the last thing I'd like to deal with are annoying wolves who think they can take us." Lydia said with clear annoyance in her voice.

"Alright, let's go. High Hrothgar is just ahead." Kian stated as he took the lead.

Scarn let out an agreeing screech from his perch on Kian's shoulder, seemingly excited, even though he didn't know where they were going.

High Hrothgar rose tall and imposing from the crest of the mountains. The grey castle carved away at the sky with its sharp tower steeples and the large shadow it casts across the snow made one feel quiet, and warry of one's actions; as though afraid of being disrespectful towards obviously sacred ground.

Kian saw a haven within the cold, unyielding stones, but Ralof and even Lydia looked slightly intimidated, constantly casting looks over their shoulders like they were being watched. As they trudged up one side of the stairs, shaking snow from their boots all the while, Kian paused in realization at the doorway.

"Ah, you both should probably wait here." He turned to speak to his companions.

"Yes, I figured." Lydia sighed.

"Wait, we came all this way and you're going to leave us outside?" The blonde asked in disbelief.

"Yes, well, the only ones permitted to enter High Hrothgar are either Dragonborn or those practicing The Shout, so unless you plan on training as a Greybeard— "

"Yes, yes, understood. I'll take my chances in the cold." Ralof resigned himself to leaning against the stone wall of the castle, though disappointment still tinged his voice.

"Look on the bright side, at least you have shelter." The Dragonborn pointed towards the stone covering over the entryway.

The Nord rolled his eyes.

"Just get in there, Dovakiin." Ralof waved his hand dismissively as Kian opened the doors and ducked inside.

The castle was nearly as cold inside as out, though there was a distinct sense of warmth towards its center, like a heart pumping life into the veins of a body. It almost made the castle feel alive, and was something Kian had come to like about the place. His boots echoed loudly across the empty halls as the adventurer made his way further in. Sounds came into focus, signs of the only life within the stone building.

A shot of nervousness flooded through Kian and he stopped walking abruptly. Scarn lifted his head from where he was cradled in Kian's arms and gave the Dragonborn a curious sounding purr. The small hatchling again felt heavy in Kian's grasp. A mixture of doubt and guilt weighing on top of the pile of scales, and the adventurer felt second thoughts filtering into his mind. Footsteps sounded farther down the hall and in a moment of panic, Kian his Scarn behind his back causing the dragon to screech at the sudden movement.

An elderly man draped in grey robes rounded the corner and stopped midstride when he caught sight of the visitor.

"Kian!" The man remarked cheerfully as he approached the Dovakiin for a greeting.

"Arngeir." The imperial greeted the elderly man with a short yet amicable handshake. "It has been some time, hasn't it?"

The man smiled, running a hand through his beard as he reminisced. "Yes, many months indeed. The duties of protector surely keep you busy, but it is good to see you."

"It is an honor." Kian bowed slightly in respect, though the atmosphere was still warm as if between equals.

The elderly Nords of High Hrothgar were the few he could truly connect with on the topic of dragons, voices, and Dovakiin. Though Arngeir was the only one who spoke with him directly, as the others held voices so powerful to speak would destroy their conversation partner, Kian had become well attuned to the silent language of the other members. Their body gesture and expressions spoke much to those who payed attention, and the wizened men were a constant source of support and advice when the trials became too confusing to bare.

"Come, the others are gathered in the main room. I'm sure they will be glad to see you well, and we have gathered more possibilities for the locations of shouts and the nests of the dragons guarding them."

Arngeir turned to lead the Dragonborn down the hall, until he noticed the sudden paleness of Kian's face.

"Kian? Is something wrong?"

The young man cursed to himself, reaching for some internal courage to proceed with the reveal. This is why he had come to High Hrothgar in the first place, yet unknown apprehension made revealing Scarn to the Greybeards feel like a bad idea. Was it a desire to protect the young dragon? Or perhaps shame he felt at hiding him? Still he was backed into a corner at this point. He could no longer leave the castle without the Greybeards knowing something was wrong and finding the dragon anyway. Now was the time.

"Arngeir, something has… come up. And I fear the situation with the dragons has become more complicated."

The elder's eyes widened slightly, but he stood in silence to let Kian continue.

"I, ah… I found something in one of the old Nord temples. A nest."

Arngeir's expression held no reaction.

"And, well, I found… this." Kian removed Scarn from behind his back, and at last the Graybeards composure was lost.

The old man stumbled over himself as he flinched back from the dragon, eyes round as eggs and mouth agape.

"By the gods!"

"Yeah, that's what I said." Scarn's gaze flickered from the old man to Kian and back again, looking confused. The dragonborn ran a finger along the back of his skull and the hatchling settled back against his chest.

Arngeir, now once again the mystic elder, stepped closer to see the dragon, one hand running long strokes through his beard.

"This is… unusual."

Kian nodded in agreement.

"I need your help. I don't know what to do." The Dovakiin felt lost and torn for one of the first times in his life, and the Graybeard's gaze softened. The elder placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Come with me. I believe I know how to help you. And there are some secrets you should be told."

With that Arngeir turned and walked back the way he came through the castle, Kian following behind, now curious as well as confused. Eventually the hallway opened up into a large, circular room where the other Greybeards regularly gathered. All were here again, together around the runes painted on the floor in a tight circle. Three withered and aged faces turned to greet the two newcomers at the entry way, and almost immediately all three sets of eyes locked onto the baby dragon curled in Kian's grasp.

Silence reigned for a few tense moments, and the questions they held surfaced in their expressions. Kian felt rigged under their stare, and wished that for once attention would stop falling on him. Being the center point for most of the conflict swirling around Skyrim was beginning to wear on his bones and mind. Arngeir stepped forward to address the other members.

"My brothers, something… unexpected has occurred, and drastically changed the nature of our struggle against the return of our past masters. This is something that I believe will require we seek advice from our Grand Master, if the rest are in agreement."

The Graybeards gathered close in a dense knot, and Kian could hear urgent whispering drifting from the conference. Borri separated from the group after a time and whispered into Arngeir's ear before nodding and stepping back.

"Well, Dragonborn, it seems all the Graybeards have consented. It is time you met the Grand Master.


	8. A Dragon's Lineage

**Chapter 8:**

 **Note: This chapter contains non-cannon Skyrim lore.**

Kian followed the Graybeards out into the snowy yard behind the castle, cold wind biting away the warmth his limbs had regained from being in the stone fortress. The cloaked men were undeterred by the snow as their coats dragged furrows in the drifts towards the mountain peak that overlooked High Hrothgar.

"He's up there?" Kian struggled to see the mountain's top behind the dense layer of clouds.

"Aye, Dovakiin." Arngeir nodded and the group came to a stop before the slope's beginning.

"I didn't even know there was anything built this high up."

"The Grand Master is a very private sort. Even we rarely see him except under dire circumstances."

Kian glanced from the elderly men back to the clouded mountain.

"But, I can't see an inch into this fog, how are we- "

As one the Graybeards let loose a shout into the sky, and the clouds parted as the wind of their call broke through to open air.

"Ah, I see."

Scarn shivered in Kian's arms, trembling and eyes wide. The Dragonborn tried his best to soothe the beast as they continued along the now visible trail up the mountain.

Kian fell in step with Arngeir at the head of the Graybeards, the dragon in his arms now distracted by falling snow and content to watch the scenery.

"So, who is the Grand Master, and why have I never heard of him before?"

"All I can say for now, is that he is our foremost member, and has been for some time. He knows more about dragons and their culture than any of us. If anyone can tell us where this…" his eyes drifted to Scarn, "little one has come from, it will be him."

"Wow, someone who knows more about dragons than you… How does he know so much?"

The old man smiled.

"I believe you will know when you see him."

The cave at the peak of the Throat of the World was like a gaping wound in the mountain's side. Wide and pitch black, it stretched back farther than Kian could see, with stalactites stabbing at the air like teeth warding off intruders.

"Your Grand Master lives in a cave?"

"Yes."

"… You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"Kian, why would the Graybeards lead you to the top of a mountain for the sake of something as juvenile as a joke?"

"Well you can never be too cautious, I've had some pretty noble people pull some rather elaborate pranks."

The elder man scoffed.

"We are far from 'most nobles'."

Arngeir took the lead and the other Graybeards shuffled in behind him. Kian exchanged a look with Scarn, who gazed back with a curious innocence, before following reluctantly at the rear. The cave was surprisingly warm, with a heat radiating from the stone around them that was increasing the further they delved in. Kian sighed in relief and shrugged off his heavy coat, shaking snow loose as he walked. The rest of the trek passed in silence, the only sound that of feet crossing stone and water dripping from ceiling to floor.

Distracted taking in the sights, Kian was surprised when a wall of soft fur met his face, only to realize the Graybeards had stopped.

"Ah, sorry Wulfgar."

The elder only nodded in recognition and stepped aside to let Kian through. Ahead of the group was an entrance into a wide, open space within the cave's center. Arngeir waited for Kian by the doorway.

"Is he through there?"

"Aye. Now remember, he is our oldest and most esteemed member. So, respect and manners are paramount."

"Of course."

The Graybeard swept a hand towards the room in a gesture to enter, and the Imperial stepped over the threshold, baby dragon in hand. The room was wide and spacious, with high stone walls that curved into a dome overhead. The walls of the room had shelves set in them, filled with books and scrolls and other artifacts Kian could not name, though the most noticeable feature was the large skylight in the room's dome, opening the cave to the snow filled air.

There was not a soul visible in the room.

"Ah, Arngeir, are you sure he hasn't gone out, or- "

A shadow passed over the skylight, and the room darkened momentarily. Kian startled, and Scarn leapt out of his arms as the Dragonborn drew his sword from its scabbard. The shadow passed again, but now a large body darkened the cave's opening. Wings cracked the wind and scales glinted in the evening light, claws scrapped against stone as the large figure settled into the cavern.

Kian's eyes widened and Scarn squeaked from behind the Imperial's foot as both watched the dragon land on the cave floor. Kian's body was wracked with shakes, adrenaline and fear washing over him, along with a tense anger. A bloodlust becoming familiar in this war against the lords of the sky. The Dragonborn raised his sword, ready to do his duty, before a hand laid itself on his wrist.

Kian turned to see Arngeir and the other Graybeards entering the room, and the older man lowered the dragon slayer's sword hand slowly to the ground. The anger dissipated, and Kian's legs felt weak. He sucked in air he hadn't realized he needed, and his grip around the sword hilt went slack. The sharpened metal clattered to the floor, and Kian followed with it.

Scarn rushed to the adventurer's side, nuzzling against his arm while Arngeir crouched next to them.

"Are you alright, Kian?" he asked, concern genuine in his expression.

"Yeah… I think so."

"My apologies. I was not thinking your reaction would be so… violent. We had thought it best for you to see Paarthurnax for yourself, before we said anything."

"Paarthurnax?"

" _ **That would be me, young Dovakiin**_." A powerful voice filled the room with its presence, and the other Graybeards bowed towards the scaly beast in respect.

Realization hit, and Kian's jaw dropped in shock.

"Wait, your Grand Master is a dragon?!"

Arngeir nodded in response.

"But... but… you fight dragons!"

"We do not fight dragons, Dovakiin, you do."

"But I- we- "

" _ **Perhaps it would be best if I explained, Arngeir**_." The large dragon spoke again, now lying in a more relaxed position on the stone floor.

"As you wish, Grand Master." The elder replied, helping Kian to his feet and brought him towards the dragon.

Paarthurnax was one of the largest of his kind that Kian had seen, rivaling only Alduin in scale. Though up close, the beast was far less intimidating than most. There was a kind of age to his face. His body was crossed with scars from nose to tail, his horns and spikes chipped and dulled by time and war. There was a kind of sagging quality to the scales around his face, creating creases and wrinkles like that of an old man, and Kian saw instead of a raging monster a weary soul who has certainly felt the passing of ages. Would all dragons have looked like this had they lived through the centuries?

Standing before the gold scaled being, Kian's legs continued to shake, and he almost asked Arngeir to stay as he stepped back amongst the other Graybeards.

" _ **Well now, Dovakiin. What do you seek from me?**_ " The dragon lowed his head so he could meet Kian's eyes with his own, the golden marble was rather unnerving to look at, but the Imperial forced up his resolve before answering.

"How exactly did a dragon come to be leader of the Graybeards?"

" _ **Hm. I fear that is a very long, very old story…**_ "

"Well I would like an answer."

" _ **Hmm… Well I suppose it started many years before your time. I was one of Alduin's lieutenant back when Dragons ruled over man. However, he grew into a tyrant, making extravagant claims of godhood, and superiority… I grew tired of his vanity, and myself and a few other dragons left to teach mankind to shout, as well as assist in banishing Alduin and his kind from Mundus. After that, well… I came to this mountain to meditate, I felt it best to retreat from the society of man. They would not need me or my interference.**_ "

"And you somehow ended up leading a group of mortal shout wielders?"

" _ **I did not become their leader, Dovakiin, I founded the Graybeards.**_ "

"Y-you what?"

" _ **Yes, but that is another story for another time. Surely that is not all you are here for?**_ "

Scarn shifted from where he was hidden behind Kian's leg, and the Dragonborn was startled from shock, remembering what they had come here for in the first place.

"A-ah… right. Well, um, I was exploring a long abandoned Nordic tomb, and inside I found something… unbelievable."

" _ **Oh?**_ " The dragon's head tilted in interest, though there was a look to him that said there was little that would surprise him.

 _I can certainly change that…_

"Yes, I discovered a… nest of sorts. And inside, I found- "Kian scoped Scarn into his arms and held him up to the larger dragon.

The little black hatchling took in Paarthurnax's face with wide red eyes, before leaning forward and sniffing at his muzzle with interest. The Grand Master's eyes widened slowly with the dawning of what he was seeing. Scarn let out a minute squawk and bumped his nose against Paarthurnax's. The larger dragon pulled back out of reach, and the smaller crooned in disappointment.

" _ **Oh… my.**_ " The aged beast seemed at a loss for words for once, and Kian forced himself to hold back a smirk.

"Yes, that seems to be the common reaction amongst many. We were hoping you could, perhaps, clear up exactly where he came from, and how. I always thought all the dragons were male?"

" _ **Well, that is both true and false."**_ Paarthurnax raised a claw to scratch against his chin. _ **"Dragons are not mortal creatures like man, and as such we have no need to reproduce to continue the species. Our father Akatosh saw it pointless to make us with such unnecessary parts, you see. So, we truly have no gender so to speak.**_ "

"Ah." That certainly cleared up why Kian had seen nothing when he turned Scarn over that day. Male was just the assumption he had made after the dragon squawked at the treatment.

" _ **Male is simply how most dragons see themselves. Our voices are deep, our personalities rugged and quick to anger, and male is how we were seen by others as well. We saw no reason to make much of a fuss over it.**_ "

"But wait, if there are no female dragons, where did the eggs I found come from?"

" _ **Eggs?**_ " Paarthurnax's eyes lit with surprise and, strangely, nostalgia.

"Yes, eggs. There were eggs in the nest. The rest were smashed, and Scarn's was the only one intact."

" _ **You are sure these were eggs?**_ " 

"Sure as anything. I watched this one hatch myself."

The dragon turned wistful for a moment. " _ **Could it be…**_ "

"Could it be what?"

" _ **Even though dragons do not reproduce, it did not mean they did not couple. Some of our kind, at the very dawn of our age, found comfort in close relations with another, often living together in pairs sharing caves and nest. And, even though we did not have reproductive organs, we did have one thing.**_ "

Kian listened with intent as the dragon continued. Scarn's ears perked up as well, tilting from side to side as though taking in each syllable of speech.

" _ **Magic. Our kind are very skilled in the mystic arts, to the point where many spells could be done on whim and instinct without a single oath being spoken. And there was one of us, so very long ago, with a talent like no other. She was called Ariath, a true marvel of our species. She was captivating, strong, graceful, everything a dragon in its prime should be. But she had one trait above all; soul binding.**_ "

"Soul binding?"

" _ **It's a kind of magic no creature, man or dragon, has been able to replicate since. Ariath would take a partner, any of her choosing, and if their connection was true and strong enough, she would ask to do a soul binding. In essence, it involved weaving the very core of both dragon's beings together into one. Into something stronger, something greater, and Ariath could use this joining to make eggs, and birth dragons.**_ "

"Truly?"

" _ **Yes. We do not know why she was the only one Akatosh left with this gift, but it was something treasured amongst our kind. Ariath was treated like a queen, and any dragon would fly to the world's end to be a part of such a personal ritual with her.**_ "

"So, Ariath was a she?"

" _ **Ariath felt it was appropriate, she felt no qualms in being labeled as such for her ability to 'conceive,' in a sense.**_ "

"Hm." Kian thought for a moment. "Well, then, why aren't there hundreds of dragons? Even if there was only one of you who could, why not take advantage of such a talent?"

Paarthurnax laughed, and the very cave seemed to rumble with its vibration.

" _ **Oh, there were those who tried, but the soul binding can only be done with a true and consenting connection. If neither dragon feels true affection for another, it will not work. And besides, Ariath took partners only rarely, and clutch sizes were fairly small. Still, there were quite a few generations of dragons birthed by her.**_ "

"Then where are they? The list of dragons mentioned in the legends seemed very short to me. What happened to the others?"

Paarthurnax's eyes grew hard, and his voice dripped with venom as he spoke the name, " _ **Alduin.**_ "

" _ **All our pains are caused by Alduin. Even in those days his vanity and lust for power were strong. He thought himself deserving of the sun's rays before anyone else, and could not bear to see something denied him. Ariath refused to take Alduin as a mate many times over, and a fire was lit in that vile monster, a fire that soon consumed him and the rest of our kind. Made himself a god among men, set the doubt amongst the other dragons that man was a dangerous species and required subjugation, became ruler of the world and king of our kind. But always Ariath remained out of his reach. She continued to take other dragons, and in Alduin's words, 'forced his hand.'**_

" _ **Alduin killed every dragon ever born from Ariath's bonds. Even those loyal to him and closest in his council, all slain with no remorse. He found her most recent nest and smashed the eggs, ruining her lineage. Then he declared Ariath, as the Queen of Dragons, would nest only with him, on penalty of death. No other dragon would touch her after, but still Ariath denied Alduin what he most desired, up to the very end she fought him, until…**_ " Paarthurnax trailed off for a time, swept up in memories.

"Ah… Grand Master?" Kian questioned.

" _ **Hm? Oh, yes, ah, where was I… Yes. Ariath fought against Alduin with all the strength she could muster, and eventually, out of spite and anger, he killed her. Right before a gathering of the rest of our people, and with her blood on his talons proclaimed, 'If I can't have her, then no dragon can.' Humanity's rebellion occurred only a few centuries later, and at last that black blight reaped as he sowed.**_ "

Kian stood still in awe as his mind slowly processed the story. "So, he was so selfish he would rather there be no new dragons than new dragons that were not from him?"

The golden beast nodded solemnly.

" _ **It was a sad day for our kind. Many wept and raged at her death, but fear of Alduin was so great none would challenge him. It only added to the many reasons I turned against our ruler in the end.**_ "

Silence settled over the cavern for a moment, and Kian slowly ran a hand down Scarn's back as he thought.

"So Alduin would never revive the spawn of other dragons. That's why their numbers are so diminished."

" _ **Indeed, Dragonborn. His pride would not allow it.**_ "

"Then who made Scarn's clutch? If Ariath was the only one and he has such hate for her that he would leave her dead, where- "

" _ **I never said he would leave Ariath dead.**_ "

Kian jolted in surprise. "But, he hasn't resurrected any of them."

" _ **He has not resurrected any of her brood. Alduin's pride also does not allow him to admit failure. If he thought it possible to control her, he would bring Ariath back without a second thought.**_ "

"But I thought she hated him?"

" _ **She did, without a doubt, but no other could have created living dragon hatchlings. And Alduin would never let another near Ariath if that were the case, which means…**_ "

The dragon's burning gaze drifted to the dragon, now idly biting at its tail out of boredom.

Kian's eyes shot from hatchling to adult in disbelief.

"You… you don't mean?"

" _ **Indeed, Dragonborn. This hatchling is of Alduin's blood.**_ "


End file.
